I’m not one of those mums. You know, the ones who read up on toilet training two years before their kid is ready?

I read about toilet training on my iPhone while the other hand is wiping poo and/or pee off the floor from her nth accident. I have browsed through an article or two but I never really do the research until I’m personally involved in the situation.

Right now, I am personally involved with the situation.

Whilst on holiday in the Philippines, she only had one minor accident after she decided to toilet train herself. But when we got back home, more accidents occurred. I know it’s normal and I know I should be patient, but like any mother out there, I am only human – awesome but still just human.

I know I should be supportive and calm and zen about the whole poo and/or pee on the floor/carpet/chair/mat/bed/rug/any other surface that could possibly be the worst spot for such things, but when it happens and I look at the mess I have to clean up, two things happen without my control. First is anger because she did it and warned me a microsecond before she did it. Second is guilt because I got angry.

The third thing is something I control very well – tears/frustration, which has the potential to be followed by collapse and then the consumption of copious amounts of sweets such as chocolate or ice cream.

It baffles me how the toilet accidents happen in just the “right” moments, like her bladder and long intestines know that mum is in the middle of something that is hard to interrupt, or moments when all I need is just one more thing to do before my body collapses in a heap.

For instance, she wants to go to the toilet just when I’m in the middle of doing my own business – you know, the long one. And because it’s just not possible to stop what I’m doing, her own system suddenly explodes on the spot and I have the clean up to look forward to after I’m done with my business.

Another example would be while I’m in the middle of flouring and frying pieces of fish for dinner. My hands are covered with flour and the pan is hot with fish that should not be left alone because it could burn really fast. But at that moment, she decides to empty her bladder on the chair she’s standing on to help me flour the fish – hands covered and sticky with flour.

And finally, it happens when I’m having one of those days when everything is on deadline, and the house is a mess, and someone’s at the door, and the dogs are barking like mad, and I just found dog’s poo somewhere where it shouldn’t be and there are chores that should have been done like yesterday.

I do wonder if there are mothers out there who go through toilet training in high heels and manicured nails, without breaking a sweat. Is it just me who is a bit  (okay, a lot) hopeless? I so hope not.