Mommy needs training, too

My stomach is in knots. I'm anxious and nervous and I feel like I could toss my cookies any second now. Blech.

I just dropped off Zozer at school, along with her new training pants. Her teachers seem to think that while she's ready to go on the potty (she knows when she has to go, and can hold it until she "hides" - apparently she's big on privacy) there's just no impetus to actually go on the potty since her diapers and pull-ups wick the moisture away so well. She sits on the potty at school by herself. She sits on the potty at home with some "help" from Mommy. She's pretty much there; we just need a tipping point. This is where the training pants come in. General consensus is that if she's uncomfortable enough, the potty will start to look like a pretty good alternative.

Sigh.

So, it's a big, giant day for Zozer, and I'm forced to sit here at work and think about her and worry about her and wonder about her.

I mean, I know rationally, in my heart of hearts, that she's going to be fine and we're all going to come out on the other side the better for it, especially M, who won't have to grumble about dropping loads of money on diapers anymore. I realize that I don't know a single person over the age of preschooler who still wears pull-ups. (Well, unless you count a few old people, but you know what I mean.)

But dammit, she's my little girl, and she'll always be my baby, and I don't like it when she's having a tough time with something. Breaks my heart into a million frillion gajillion little pieces.

Everyone cross your fingers today (and through the weekend). Let's hope this is The Day Zoe Learns to Love the Potty.