My friend Ellen rocks. She's like the uber mom. She's totally willing to admit she's not perfect, but she also knows when to give herself a pat on the back. When I'm in a parenting quandary that doesn't merit a call to my sister or mom, I call on her. I also ask her all questions related to breastfeeding because she is the most knowledgable person I know who is not board certified. (Someday, she will be, but right now she's raising two girls and has enough on her plate with that.)
So, last Monday, when we went bowling, she noticed that Connor was no longer wearing diapers. I told her that on Saturday morning I told Connor he was no longer going to wear a diaper during the day, except for naptime and he could also wear one for bedtime. I explained to him I was tired of arguing about whether or not he needed his diaper changed. Seriously, the thing would be about to explode and he would argue quite vehemently that it did NOT need to be changed. It became apparent to me that he was possibly going to be the only person heading off to their high school prom still wearing a diaper just because it was more convenient than interrupting whatever he was doing to use the toilet. A while back, he had a little stint of using the potty occasionally, and seemed quite proud, but after he knew how, it was no longer interesting, so he stopped entirely. Instead, he decided to work on more important problems, like, figuring out how to get a democrat elected president, or something along those lines, I presume. I also decided that because Connor is a man of little gray, it had to be a hard and fast rule - no diapers while awake, ever. I was scared, but did not want to send a mixed message to him that when we leave the house, he can use a diaper and when we're at home, he has to use the potty.
And you know what? It's working! On Saturday, we stuck close to home, because I was nervous. When Ed went to the grocery store he was totally happy that Connor didn't want to go because he was worried about the "accident" potential. Then on Sunday, Connor wanted to go to a parade downtown. So we went. And he actually agreed to go potty with enough time for me to sprint to the nearest museum, run past the line of people waiting calmly to go through the security check as I glanced at the guard - without missing a step, I might add - and shouted "potty training". Two women stepped aside at the bathroom door and Connor was there with a few moments to spare. He had a couple of accidents on Monday as he tried to figure out on his own how much lead time he needed to get to the bathroom, but since then, his underwear has been "clean and dry", as he likes to announce to me.
But the really cool thing about all this? Ellen's response when I told her? "Dude! You're so old school, just taking his diapers like that."
I consider it high praise, and I'm totally patting myself on the back. That, and kicking myself for just purchasing an enormous box of Connor's size diapers.
Oh, and he's also learned to slide off the roof of his playhouse without waiting for someone to catch him. Oh yeah, my days before heading to the ER are numbered now, thank you Ed.