The last poopy diaper

At some point, without even realizing it, I might have changed my last poopy diaper.


After what felt like approximately 28 years of attempting potty training, Nora finally has gotten the hang of it, so she's out of diapers now, except overnight -- and even those are usually clean and dry come morning. Sure, there are still some accidents here and there, but those involve laundry, for the most part, not the old hold-baby's-ankles-while-she-squirms-and-you-wish-you-had-an-extra-hand-for-wiping routine on a changing table.


There are certain conveniences to diapers that I miss, I admit. Back in the diaper days, I didn't have to visit the bathroom of every restaurant, store and home I entered with Nora. Sometimes twice. Sometimes seven times (personal record). Except in the case of blowouts (do NOT miss those!), I didn't have to drop everything and respond to the situation immediately. Not that I would let her sit around wet for hours, but, you know, if I needed to finish cooking this grilled-cheese sandwich or maybe even, gasp!, finish eating it, I usually could. And back then I didn't live in fear of being stuck in traffic with a child saying "Mama, I have to go potty …"


But it's great to see how proud she is of herself every time she gets to the potty in time, and how seriously she takes flushing the toilet and washing her hands -- sacred Big Girl responsibilities, for sure. And it's VERY great not to have to pay for diapers anymore or clean up a messy tush.


I suppose this is where I should take a moment to be wistful about my baby starting to grow up, but can we just skip that part? I get those pangs just like everyone else does when I see one of Nora's baby pictures or come across some tiny article of clothing that she once wore. But on this matter, I'm all about looking forward. Changing diapers was no picnic, and potty training was pure hell. So this is a time to sigh, sure, but only with relief.