Potty Trained for Home, okay...

Potty Trained for Public, not so much...

No picture for this story, but I'm sure you'll all be able to imagine it vividly. We've stuck fairly close to home the last few days as we work to get Claire out of diapers, and she has done a great job at home with few accidents. Therefore, I decided to meet some friend for a picnic at Bozeman's weekly Music on the Lawn series. I put the potty chair in the back of the Subaru for extra protection and packed a change of clothes and some extra underwear "just in case," but I have to admit feeling pretty confident.

We arrived and before leaving the car I put Claire on the potty--no luck. Of course, shortly after meeting our friends and setting up, I saw her standing with a suspicious posture and a drip running down her legs. Outfit change #1--a little disappointing, but I figured she was distracted by the music and activity. A half an hour later, she decided the radio mascot, a moose, scared her and was sitting on my lap, which suddenly felt suspiciously wet. Outfit change #2. (Unfortunately didn't bring a change for myself.) At this point a smarter mother would actually take her child to the bathroom, but I figured she had it all out of her. Wrong. My friend says, "Sandra, I think Claire just did a poopy on the grass." Sure enough, in the middle of the lawn of dancing children and picnickers, Claire has made a deposit. No use yelling at her, right? Just gently remind her where the poopy should go, I tell myself while cleaning up, a little thankful that she at least pulled her underwear down first.

I needed to stop at the store on the way home, so before getting in the car we tried the potty. Nothing. We got to the store and tried the toilet. Nothing. We were checking out at the store, Claire standing next to the cart, and a big yellow puddle appeared, and I do mean a large puddle. I calmly asked the cashier for some paper towels, and she told me to get some from the bathroom. So I gather my wet child, leave the groceries, and head to the bathroom where the paper towels are coarse, thin non-absorbent ones and come from an automatic dispenser--one about every 30 seconds. It takes THREE trips to the bathroom to get enough paper towels to mop up the puddle, and I have nowhere to put the wet ones except to empty my produce and use those bags. Thankfully, no one got in line behind me (I wonder why?). At this point I'm pretty sure I won't be revisiting this store anytime soon and may not take Claire into public for the next year. I also really want a beer and a shower...in that order.