It's an Ugh Day

It's been one of those days. Those not so fun pregnant days. Where emotions and lack of sleep and little desire to eat all combine to make a pretty shitty day. My poor son must think I'm Dr. Jekyll and Mommy Hyde. He's an amazing little boy, though, and between him and the ever-constant wonderful support of my husband, I manage to make it through the day.

Today was a big day for Mason. He's discovered, dun-dun-dun - "the potty." So we're hanging out in the living room and he starts saying, "P, mama." Completely out of the blue. It takes my slow pregnant brain a few minutes to figure out what he's trying to tell me. "Potty?" I ask him. "You want to use the potty?" "Dah!" he announces triumphantly. Then he proceeds to head to the bathroom, where he points to the toilet, pulls up his shirt and leans on tiptoes into the cold basin, looking up at me expectantly. I'm just sitting there smiling like an idiot, trying not to get all teary-eyed, and he's looking at me like "what the hell you waiting for?" So I let him open the lid, which is something he, amazingly, never does, then we pull down his jeans and take off his diaper.

Now, I'm not really sure what the best approach to this should be. Do I sit him down on it and hold him (well, duh, obviously or his cute little dupah is gonna get really cold and wet)? do I lift the seat so he can stand like daddy? do I have him face the back of the toilet so he can kind of strandle the seat and sit a little better? Unsure, I tried them all. We sat there for a second or so in each position, patiently waiting, but lo and behold, no pee.

"Dowwwnnn, mama, dowwwwn." So down he goes. Now he's running around the bathroom in nothing but his new thermal shirt and socks, all excited. He heads straight to the wastebasket, as if suddenly realizing we forgot one very vital item.....toilet paper. (We most certainly do not keep the toilet paper on the roll or the toilet would be nothing but a wad of goo - we save that fun for public places.) He usually likes to help me when I'm going to the bathroom by handing me the toilet paper (he actually just shoves it down the legs of my pants) so I guess he figures he needs some too. And, well, if other things like q-tips and dental floss go in there at the same time, so be it.

Not wanting to cause too big of a mess, I tried to divert his attention away. Big mistake. He just wants to keep cramming in the various items from the garbage. Finally, I have one of those rare brainstorms. "Hey Buu, should we go to the store and get a potty for Mason?" And I'll be damned if he didn't just stop what he was doing, nod, and head out of the room eagerly. It doesn't matter that his dupah is hanging out, it doesn't matter that it's freezing outside, by golly, he's going to the store for a potty! So, as I often do, I ask him to please run and get a diaper out of his room so that we can go. Quickly, he runs out of the room - thumpa, thumpa, thumpa - with his left arm swinging behind him as he goes, and comes back almost immediately....with an actual diaper in his hand! Shocked, I sit there for a moment as he drops it at my knees, waiting. Now, it's not that I ever thought he is incapable of getting a diaper and bringing it to me, but usually it takes about a half an hour to walk 5 feet because there are far more interesting things to do on the way to get the diaper so that by the time he actually gets there, he forgot why he was heading there in the first place.

Completely overcome with emotion and realizing that our little boy is growing up, I hold back the tears and help him to get dressed. We pause only long enough to gather up the usual necessities and head for Toys R Us, with Mason chanting all the while in the backseat, "Potty. Mama, potty." As if I'm going to forget.