I have let an abundance of messy overtake my habitat the last year. I gave it an inch and it took much more than a mile! I have seen my daughter share toys with the dog. I let her feed herself, which results in her testing each food as a possible hair product (cottage cheese has some nice hold). I have found myself joining her as she eats off the floor (did I seriously just do that?). Or as she paints the room with popsicle or yogurt. I have watched her play in the dirt. Handle her dad's dirty construction tools. Examine the sewer drains. I have even seen, to my horror, her pick up dog poop. Mess after mess after mess. I have laundered more clothing than I could ever thought possible.
Through all of this I have wiped, washed, scrubbed, bathed, and tucked the dirty away. Down the sink, in the garbage, out with the bath water, drained away in the spin cycle. Then I feel better and can face the next challenge in the battle between obsessive compulsiveness and spontaneity. (Ding-ding. One more victory for team party-pooper. Um... Sans poop.) I would be more than comfortable having everything precisely in its place (after disinfecting, polishing, and removing stains). Adversely, I long to cherish life and the people that I am blessed to experience it with. There have been too many unfortunate moments where I have let go of an opportunity for good company or bonding because I was selfishly concerned with my surroundings (I know I am not painting myself in a good light here. But I know I am not the only one). Half of me pulls one way and half the other. It is a struggle to let things go and focus on what really matters.
For those who can't get the presence of microorganisms out of their mind, this pathogen infested world continues to pose a challenge to be overcome. For me, there is one area I am afraid to navigate. An inevitable parenting task that I dread more than temper tantrums, feeding, sleep training, traveling, or anything that mothers have to competently face.
Potty training.
Can my daughter just stay in diapers? I like the convenience of taking one off, putting another on, and washing up and being done with it. Hmmm. The way she's starting to pull at her diaper tells me she is starting to become aware. And I guess there would come a point I wouldn't appreciate tending to the predicament when my little one becomes completely capable. So this morning I stood in the store staring at the shelves of potty training products. Do I want to find an additional place for her own little potty? Or do I want to put a little seat on the big toilet?
Frankly I don't even want her to enter a washroom. Loo. Lavatory. Ladies Room. Restroom. Anything containing a toilet. But that won't get us very far. For a while I have had to take a deep breath and compose myself as she enters the room and checks it out. Yesterday, mark it on the calendar, I even let her walk in the public restroom with me and stand there while I used the toilet (her obedience with "Don't touch!" really facilitated my venturing out). Have you ever peed with a child on your knee and then tried to do up your pants with one hand? Difficult. Knowing I need to let her learn, I have been telling myself not to react to my discomfort because I don't want her to have an issue. Because as a child, I did.
When I was in my first few years of school I couldn't use a public washroom alone. The teacher had to send someone with me. Apparently, I couldn't even close the stall door as the other person, facing the other way, had to stay completely visible. Just going tinkle was very stressful for me. I doubt it was all germs then. I was afraid for some reason. (I can't imagine what I would have done if there were automatic flush toilets back then! Swoooosh! BOO!) In my trepidation I had always wanted to avoid them. I am fear-free now, but still keep my visits there brief.
I keep my makeup in another area. I hang my bath towel in my bedroom. My toothbrush is not on the counter. I cringe when I see others treat it like any other social location. People who sit around on the toilet and the counter and visit. Hair items and toiletries spread all over the available space.
The lack of caution I witness is exemplified in children. They have better things to pay attention to than little invisible beings that may or may not be harmless. I recall spending time with young family members who end up touching everything. Who let their clothes rub the toilet or floor. Who splash and who miss a spot. Uh. I am mortified just writing about it. You, my reader, are either indifferent, or maybe you understand my sentiment wholeheartedly.
One thing I know, there are many people out there set on avoiding contact with anything in the washroom. The necessity of a garbage can by the door testifies of the popularity of eluding even a graze with any surface. Using paper towel to turn the taps and to open the door. As someone who doesn't stay at home all day, I will have to help my daughter feel comfortable, but be diligent in paying attention to her surroundings and to what she needs to do.
But first step, I have to get her to pee in a potty. I have a feeling it will be more menacing for me than it will be for her. I am praying I will be able to add it to the list of things that ended up easier than expected and I'll laugh looking back at my exhaustive anticipation.
Hmmm. Maybe I'll try next month.
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