The Smallest Violin

As I mentioned in the previous post, Little Miss Mango is now using the toilet by herself most of the day. Now be warned, young single folk who may be reading this, I am about to discuss some very awkard, taboo topics - such as wee and poo - that you might find offensive. What I think is much more interesting than that though (before I begin) is how most people without children think that this is the hardest part about having them. Seriously, if a bit of poo is the worst thing you have to overcome, then you have no worries - especially seeing how most people willingly deal with all manner of bodily excretions coming from their animals without a care in the world. Honestly, cleaning up dog vomit, or running behind them and scraping up their poopies is so much more degrading and disgusting then doing the same for a small human. In terms of volume, depending on the size of the dog, they are probably about equal, but as far as consistency goes, there is no comparison. Perhaps it is the type and amount of food being ingested that does it, I don't. And as a vegetarian, you learn to get a fairly good idea of how healthy a body is at any time by the finer points of poo. Anyway, we were talking about the toilet training.

I actually remember this whole section in Little Mango 1's learning as a lot more disgusting than it really is. I don't really remember what it was about it - perhaps it was the length of time it took (because you really can't rush these things), maybe it was the sound of transferring a potty's contents to a toilet (it's like kitty litter, if the cat was the size of a chimpanzee and ate mostly fruit), or perhaps it was constantly having to be aware of the fact that a poo might be sitting out, airing it's foulness to all the world, in the same room as you without you realising. Perhaps, also Little Mango 1 wasn't as fast to get the hang of it as Little Miss Mango has been, but that generally just describes their personalities. Little Mango 1 is a little cruisy - and my daughter just decides things. One day, she just decided she was sick of this nappy business, and it was on. And I am so proud of my little girl and how well she is doing, as I was when Little Mango 1 picked it up, as it is such an obvious step of them becoming a little further independent from you, even in the tiniest way. And even though there is always a small resistance to this independence going on inside you, it feels good to let them go. I read somewhere once, don't remember where but it just popped into my head: raising children is the process of gradually learning to let go of them. Work with that, it makes you feel much better in the long run.

But that's not to say that this process can't get a little trying. It absolutely can - it can be frustrating, and it can be hard to accept failures as unsuccessful attempts at something remarkable (because you need to, there is no failure when it comes to toilet training - there is only accidents). Sometimes there can be lots and lots of accidents, and you have to be okay with the fact that bodily excretions will have touched almost every part of your house by the end, even parts you couldn't have possibly imagined the problem to occur. You'll be drinking coffee one morning and something will lead you to that hollow area behind the pantry, where you can't possibly fit and have never really noticed before, and there will be a little puddle as if they have purposely gone somewhere that was difficult for you to access. It was supposed to be a surprise! If you don't think you can handle these accidents for fear of your precious carpet, here's a tip that people who own rental properties will probably cringe at when they read it: don't own the house you toilet train them in. I'm of a belief not to own a house in general until they're, seriously, nine or ten (SARCASM ALERT!!!), or maybe eighteen...

Truthfully, though, wherever you live, you have to be okay with these little messes. And most likely if you've survived this far without your brain exploding, then you can probably handle it. I think it's something remarkable about parents that doesn't really get said much and I think it needs to be addressed. Parents go through so much crap (I'm being literal here) before they come to toilet training that they are clinically used to it. It's something single people will cringe at, and as parents you always get that odd stare when you start to bring this subject matter up. For God's sake, it's just poo.

I remember we were getting newborn photos done with Little Miss Mango and I was holding her out in my arms, naked. The photo is this beautifully serene image of her head and shoulders looking down the barrel of the lens, as if into your soul. Amazing. What wasn't captured was the shit explosion that landed on my chest, covering most of my shirt and generally took my breath away. But I didn't say anything because I knew the photo would be worth it - and no-one else in the room said anything either. Not out of respect for what could have been quite an embarrassing situation, but because when they thought about it, they had all been shat on by their children at some stage. It was just an unspoken acknowledgement of, "Yeah, that's happened to me before," and we went about our business.

You just have to deal with it, and yes the smell can be horrendous, almost choking sometimes, the sight can stay with you in your dreams like some sort of war crime, and the process of fixing it can be an ordeal of mental determination; and there will always be this playful ruse you have passing the child back and forth with your partner; but really, everyone has had it done to them, most people will do it, most people will get it done to them again one day. It's the awful and beautiful circle of life. It should be on a T-shirt.

And don't worry, you will know when you have become accustomed to it. You'll get to work one day and think to yourself, 'I might be the only one here that was vomited on before coming to work.' And you'll feel a little bit of pride for yourself inside. And you'll start discussing patterns of poo with other people as if it is the most interesting thing that has happened to you that day (some days it can be), and when they start reeling back in disgust, you will realise that somehow you have learnt that this is normal and average. Like the weather or that local sporting team and whatever it is that they did that was good. Imagine a world where bowel movements and uncannily powerful projectile vomit was perfectly legitimate water cooler talk - what a strange and glorious place that would be. That awkward bouncy run parents do when they are trying to race their child to the toilet, held out a little away from them to stop any unwanted fallout; similar to that slumped expression as you bend down with the bag in hand, after seeing someone notice your dog crapping on the sidewalk and realising you will have to handle it, and your dog seems to smile at your degradation; would all seem perfectly sane things to do.