In case you are wondering what I've been doing for the last two weeks, I've been sitting in front of a froggy potty exclaiming things like "Good job!" and "Big girl!" Also, "Leah, don't touch Matthew's privates!", "Don't stick your hands in the potty!," and "Matthew, quit trying to push Leah off the seat!"
Potty training is not for wimps. If I survive this process I'm pretty sure I'll start getting phone calls from the U.S. military looking to recruit me, as I'll be able to stare down any invading army and growl, "Don't mess with me. I potty-trained twins!" I'm pretty sure the invaders will either bow down to my awesomeness or run home to their mommies.
But man, it's hard work. Leah is so excited about her selection of big girl panties that she can't decide which pair she wants to wear, so she does the only sensible thing - she brings me a new pair of panties every five minutes and asks me to help her get them on. It's super cute and super annoying. But by accommodating her I may be doing the world a service, as my sister says this constant underwear changing will help keep cosmic balance with her youngest kids, who are still having difficulty with the concept that you should change your underwear every day. You know me, always willing to help.
And as Leah is now going on her fifth consecutive accident-free day, she can change her panties as much as she wants. (It's amazing what I'll let my kids do as long as they don't pee on my floor).
Matthew has been a bit slower to catch the vision, but that may be because of the internal battle common to every male child over whether it will be more fun to pee on the potty and get a treat or pee on the wall and watch Mom try to pretend she isn't bothered. Also fun to try - pee three inches from the potty, pee on Mom's bed, and fight with your sister over who gets to carry the potty bucket down to the toilet for dumping (which is about every ten minutes, considering how often someone is peeing around here). The most fun? Pee in little spurts all around the house until your dad, who has only been home from work for ten minutes, exclaims, "What are you, a fountain?!" and Mom smiles to herself because this little taste of her daily life has made him instantly more grateful to be the breadwinner.
But Matthew is also doing well, overall -- only one accident yesterday (not counting the time where one of the potty fights led to a bucket of pee being dumped on the carpet). Give me a few more days and I'll be ready to start the other half of potty training. But not today. I'm too mentally exhausted. There's a cure for that, of course, but I'm still about three dozen cookies and six hot baths short.
Not to mention a few brain cells.