Sunday, 5 January 2014

Week 121- inhaling Twirls, smelling like a urinal and attempting a social life...

New year. New resolutions.

This year I will resolve to:

1. Have a son
2. Only eat one Twirl a day and cut down to every other day when I've given birth
3. Write every day. Updating Facebook status doesn't count
4. Start a book club
5. Not get mardy about the small stuff
6. Not put off till tomorrow what I can do today
7. Sell one thing on eBay for every one thing I buy
8. Get a social life again.

In the spirit of resolution 6, we decided to start potty training Nancy.

I now understand why people take a week off work to do this.

It's not so much the frequency with which you keep having to put someone on the potty.
Although I was surprised when we topped a record 30 declarations of 'I need a weeeeee!' in an hour. That's a lot. Even after you've broken the seal at the pub when you've downed 4 pints of lager, that's a lot.

I'm not sure how other people do it.

Maybe you don't leave the house until the transformation is complete, and then your child emerges, Superman out of the phone box style, totally potty trained.

We've been taking the potty with us when we go out and setting up a makeshift loo wherever we stop.

But I can't recollect ever seeing anyone else at the Marks and Spencer's cafe having a cup of tea and a scone while their 2 year old sits under the table doing a wee on a potty.

This is involving more exercise than I've done in the last five months too.
Who am I kidding? Make that five years.

Nancy announces she needs the potty, and the world seems to freeze.

In a Gwen from Torchwood slow motion style sequence, I shout, 'hoooooold it iiiiiiiiiiin,' as I scoop her up and run to the potty, wheezing like a crank calling perv as it transpires it's just a false alarm.

While in the library, it was like watching a tall Johnny Wilkinson, as Ben picked Nancy up under his arm like a rugby ball, and spirited with her the length of the building to the loo.

It's all gone a bit feral at home as well.

It seems easier for her to walk around naked from the waist downwards as we're getting through so many changes of clothes.
She seems to be getting the hang of it pretty quickly.
Although interestingly, as she's developing, I've regressed a bit.

Doing the sniff test on my two pairs of maternity jeans and wearing the pair that smell least like wee. (Fact. You can only realistically go round twice unless you want to smell like the boy at primary school no-one wanted to be paired up with during the country dancing classes.)

I've probably got to sort that out quick sharpish.

Smelling a bit like a French urinal isn't going to help any with resolution 7, attempting to revive some kind of social life.

As for resolution 2, I'd broken that one whilst writing it down in my new 2014 book, as I realised I'd inhaled two Twirls from a multi-pack without stopping to draw breath.

The rest of the resolutions are more of a work-in-progress.

So here's to 2014.

May it be a year of celebrating friendships, new lives and learning new stuff.
Whether that be how to wipe your bum, or how to become a family of four.

It's going to be a mental year, so deep breath and remember to not get mardy about the small stuff.


Where have I left the rest of those Twirls...