One of my pet peeves about Travis is that he, like most men, is a channel-surfing-crazy-man.  There’s no telling how many movies I’ve never seen the end of, due to his obsessive need to see what else is on.  We could easily start to watch 4-5 different shows in an evening and never actually make it to the end of a single one. 

Why am I rambling on about this, you ask?  The answer is simple.

I refuse to tease you with the beginning of Arle’s potty-training journey, just to leave you wondering how the “story” ended.  I don’t care if I promised to NOT blog about bodily functions this week.  I’m officially breaking that promise.  The potty training progress made over the weekend is just too huge to not share with the Momdiggity faithful. 

Here’s the 411 on the potty-training front.  It’s a long post, brace yourself. 

We only had one accident on Friday and that was while in the car, driving home from taking dinner to a friend.  Poor thing started saying, “Poop, poop!” about twenty minutes from our house.  I asked her to hold it ’til we got home, but that concept evidently doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to a 20-month-old, as her response to my request was, “Uh-oh.”  I immediately pulled over and stripped her bottom half down and replaced her soggy clothes with a diaper. 

Needless to say, my agoraphobia intensified.  I mean, what am I supposed to do?  Pull over at the closest home, knock on the door, explain that we’re trying to potty-train, and ask to use their restroom??? 

Still, though, I felt good about the fact that it was the only accident all day. 

That evening, I desperately needed a break from potty-training and the walls of my home, so I went out for dinner and a movie with two girlfriends.  It felt fabulous to not worry about whether or not Kristin and Jessie needed to go potty.  It was liberating to not have to escort them to the restroom in a mad rush.  It was a perfect evening with great friends, except for the fact that the movie was awful.  We saw Confessions of a Shopaholic and I was devastated to see that pretty much the only similarities between the book and the movie were the characters’ names.  Jerry Bruckheimer should be ashamed of himself for producing such a poor representation of, what I deem, a literary masterpiece. 

I digress. 

On Saturday, we decided to venture out and run some errands.  Trav’s mom, Teri, had flown in the night before, so she, Trav, Arle, and I all piled in the car and headed to Target.  While there, we tossed a package of pull-ups into the basket to use whenever we have to be out and about.  Unfortunately, we didn’t have the sense to rip them open in the middle of the aisle and slide Arle’s little toosh into one at that very moment.

Instead, we just took our time wandering the aisles.  A nice little lady dolling out samples of hot tea gave Teri and me coupons for a free drink at the in-store Starbucks.  We sauntered over to put in our order and were debating over whether we should try the new London Fog Tea Latte or the Vanilla Rooibos Tea Latte, when Trav suddenly realized we had bigger things to worry about.  Arle had, without warning, relieved herself in the cart.  Luckily we had placed a towel under her, just in case.  But still, she was soaked. 

We all went into high gear, so we could get the heck out of dodge.  Teri stayed behind to get our drinks while Trav went to pay for the goods.  We went to the car to get Arle cleaned up, changed and in a pull-up. 

AGORAPHOBIA!!!!!   Any money we save on diapers will surely be used on therapy for my new illness.

Sunday was marked by only one accident. 

Yesterday was the day I’ve been waiting for.  The day I’ve dreamed of.  The day that makes the last week seem worth it. 

Arle had ZERO accidents!  That’s right, count ‘em…ZEEEEEEROOOOOO. 

She, Teri, and I went shopping yesterday morning and she stayed dry the whole time.  Even when we were at Pottery Barn Kids and the Cat In The Hat was there for story-time and she completely freaked out when I tried to get a picture of him with us, she stayed dry.  That’s what I call self-control, folks! 

Another amazing milestone occurred this morning on the way home from taking Grammy to the airport.  Just after dropping Grammy off and starting our 30 min. drive home, I heard the dreaded words, “Poop!  Poop!”  I asked her to hold it until we got home and she did!  She had a pull-up on, so it wouldn’t have really mattered if she had gone, but still, I don’t want her to know that.  Pull-ups are for my peace of mind, not hers:) 

I’m sure you had no intention of reading a novel today (especially one about “accidents” and “holding it”).  I’m just so thrilled about how far she’s come in less than a week and had to share it with all. 

And, just in case you’re wondering, definitely go with the London Fog.  It’s divine. 

I’ll leave you with a few pics of Arle with her Grammy and also with the chair that Grammy bought her while at Pottery Barn Kids. 

Arle & Grammy

"Tat In Du Tat"

Chillaxin'