Lest Ye Think It Is All Fun And Games...

In the last post, I touted potty training as an angelic experience that anyone would do well to learn eternal truths from. Well, let's not exaggerate, people - that was yesterday. Okay, that was about half of yesterday. The second half of yesterday went downhill quickly after two poops on the kitchen floor caused me to realize that I am projecting my perfectionist tendencies onto my child as I wonder why he isn't perfect the first time at potty training. After being mad at myself for this realization and then surging right on into a hormonal pregnancy mood change, I was as pleasant as a barrel cactus to be around last night. I am glad I wrote that last post, however, because I meant every word of it, and when I start to slide into pathetic self-pity I will come back and read it to gain the perspective I raved about before. In the meantime, I'll look at this cute face and wonder how I can ever be such a scrooge in the first place.

Line Upon Line

My life is filled with cleaning up pee and poo. And I love it.

I love rejoicing in the triumphs of a not-quite 2 1/2-year-old. I love screaming and dancing and running around the house with a half-naked toddler who runs back into my arms for a big hug after a successful go at the loo.

I love calling "Super Grover" (aka my dad) to discuss this latest triumph and watching the expression on Gavin's face as he says nonchalantly, "Hi Super Grover. I pooped in the potty." The proud, self-satisfied expression on his little face is priceless to me.

I love watching Gavin suddenly assume a sumo-like walk as he waddles to the potty and I know it is time for #2.

I love to sing, "This is the way we wash our hands, wash our hands, wash our hands; this is the way we wash our hands, after we go potty!" every time we wash hands post-pottying. With such a little bladder, the average number of hand-washing trips is about 3 times an hour.

I love to put lotion on my cracking and dry hands from so much washing. I love to watch a little body run around in Elmo, Super Grover and/or camouflage underwear and want to wear a new pair a couple of times a day even if he hasn't soiled the pair he is wearing.

In short, I love that the triumphs I used to rejoice in - graduations, my wedding, the birth of my first child - have been replaced by the small and simple every-day situations that are no less important in our development.

I love to think that this is the way the Lord designed our lives, for truly, "by small and simple means" does He accomplish His work. I know that He is just as excited for Gavin as I am, and that He is proud of the steps I am making towards becoming more patient and kind. I would hate to think that He only cared about the accomplishments that the world sees are important, like the big homes, the fancy cars, the degrees from fancy colleges, fitting in with hairstyles and clothing, etc. If we know that this isn't true of the way Heavenly Father feels about us, then why do we sometimes place so much importance on these things?

I am grateful for an infinite number of things about my son, but one of those I feel strongly about is that he has given me perspective and continues to teach me important eternal truths. No matter how small, the progress we make in doing the will of God and reaching our divine potential is what matters to Heavenly Father. I thank a potty-training toddler for reminding me of this.