The truth laid bare

I hate potty-training. Hate it, hate it, hateithateithateithateit. It has been a cruel twist of fate, too, that every time I begin potty-training I always have at least one baby happily soiling diapers in the wings, reminding me that even if this experience isn't the shoot-me-in-the-head-now-and-end-this-agony kind, I only have a few short months before I'll have to do it again.

But Abbie is ready. She's been ready for a while, but I've had concerns about her small motor strength. I mean, she has a brain tumor and all; I should really give myself - I mean her, I should give her, of course, ha ha! - a break. Give her a chance to build up her strength, you know........ Unfortunately, her motor skills have improved enough that she has the ability to take her diaper off at will. And take it off she does, several times a day. She will keep it dry for a few hours and then suddenly soak it through, but instead of informing me that she needs a change now, she'll just take it off and wait until the panicked cries of her sisters alert me to the situation.

Sunday, though, is when I had to admit defeat. The time has come to pull out the old (disgusting, stinking) training potty. On second thought, the time has come to buy a new one so that we have at least a few days until it too becomes unbearable and un-cleanable.

See, we were at mass on Sunday, and the girls were all behaving beautifully. At one point Abbie began to stage-whisper to me about her diaper, but I shushed her quickly and she quieted down. It was all just going so well, even Lucy was being quiet and reverent. Abbie remained silent beside me, wiggling around of course, but I hardly even notice that anymore. I'm not sure what prompted me to look down at her, perhaps it was an impression that there was more flesh-color than usual in my peripheral vision. I looked down, and saw Abbie beside me with her rear-end bare for all the world (and all the back of the church) to see. Her diaper had been bugging her, so she just pulled it around her ankles, taking her skirt with it. Due to the nature of our five curious girls, Chris and I usually alert each other clearly if we need to take someone out of mass, but there was no time in this scenario. I grabbed Abbie, bare bottom and all, and hauled out of there as fast as I could. We were in the bathroom before my frazzled mind settled and I realized that I hadn't even tried to cover her backside up during our retreat.

Oh well. I'm sure some people were appalled, and some people amused. I'm mostly sure, though, that Abbie's diapered days are numbered.