Free Diapers, Size 5

The big girl underwear has landed.

Muffin potty-trained about a month ago. I wish I could say I figured out some brilliant no-fail system or that I was able to use some maternal Jedi mind tricks to sense that unlike the other 87 times we tried, she was now finally ready. But the truth is that my parents came to visit for the weekend, and Muffin wanted to dazzle them with her mad potty skillz, so she whizzed up a storm. We put her back in diapers for the school week, but then picked up the training again the following weekend. I kind of couldn’t believe it worked, to tell you the truth. On Monday, Muffin arrived at school, resplendent in panties and high-fiving her teachers. Except for one on-the-DL poop in the closet and a few nap-related leaks, she’s been pretty much accident-free. Goodbye, diaper bubble bum, hello baby plumber’s butt.

Cue the Sunrise, Sunset, but nothing drives home the point that Muffin's growing up more than seeing her wipe her own bum. But aside from fleeting moments of my baby! nostalgia, having a potty-trained kid rocks my world. I love getting rid of the diaper pail, and with it the Eau de Poop that hit you every time you walked into her room. I adore the so-cute-it-hurts underwear, all rainbows and hearts and poodles. I can’t get enough of the tender way she asks me every time we’re in a public bathroom, will you hold me so I don’t fall? And then, our faces close together, we make bets if this one’s a loud flusher or a quiet one.

I am also rather surprised at myself for embracing the whole process so easily. Before I became a mom, I cringed at the idea of using a cutesy word like “potty” or of needing to explain about girl parts and boy parts. (I probably haven’t done such a good job with the latter, because she insists only boys have butts). But I experience no shame or embarrassment (Exhibit A: this blog entry). When Muffin calls me over to the toilet to look at what she’s produced, I oohh and aahh without a bit of irony. I swear I could be having tea with the queen in Buckingham Palace but if Muffin started up with that suspicious leg-crossing action, I would not hesitate for a moment to ask her if she has to make pee-pee on the potty. And then I would smile proudly.