We are persevering with the toilet training. There have been less accidents today, mainly because we were at a friend's house this morning, and even I, with my lack of social graces, realise that it is not the done thing to let one's child urinate all over other people's carpets, so I kept making her go to the toilet. I was aided in this by my friend's daughter's potty, a swanky affair which not only sings, but has its own toilet-roll holder. As The Toddler is fascinated by loo roll, for reasons which are unclear to me, this went down well, and she even asked to go on it. However, there are still two soggy pairs of tights in my washing machine. Ah well, I'm sure we'll get there. I'm starting to slightly panic a bit though, as it keeps dawning on me that I don't have the faintest clue what I'm doing, and I worry I'm doing it wrong. I'm scared that if I ask her all the time, she won't learn to tell me when she needs to go. But if I don't ask her, she just wees everywhere, and that's tiresome. She's also applying the selective toddler deafness when I try to say, in a nice, non-accusatory, Good Parent-type tone "If you need to go for a wee, you need to tell Mammy, please, OK?". Ah well. We're at Grandma's house tomorrow, and The Toddler will comply with Grandma's requests, in a way which is not at all frustrating.
Also, while we were on with regime change, I decided it was time to start putting The Littl'un to bed earlier. I had been keeping her up til about 9.30pm, which I didn't mind at all. But I realised the other day that I was staying up for a good two hours after that, even though I was knackered, in order to get in a decent chunk of "me" (for which, read "internet") time. Coupled with various children making various noises at various hours of the night, this was making me extremely tired, and even more grumpy than normal. So I thought it was worth a try, even if it resulted in a night feed, as I couldn't possibly be more tired. Hopefully.
It seems to be working OK. The Littl'un has a little bit of a protest at being abandoned so early, but then settles down to sleep, and woke for a feed at 4.30 the first morning, then 6am this morning. Although she did squawk randomly a few times, and I took her to bed with me at God knows what time to make the squawking stop (and have baby cuddles, which are lovely).
So, yay, I have my evenings back (because I use them so wisely, obviously), and I am going to bed at something resembling a reasonable hour. But I do miss her. Big sadface. It was actually lovely to have a couple of hours with her in the evening, playing and making silly noises at each other, without The Toddler telling her to stop shouting, or demanding biscuits. It's almost enough to make me abandon the idea and keep her up all night again. But then, today I mentioned the words "night out" to my friends, and realised, with a little flutter of excitement, that once the clock hits 7.30, I am no longer beholden to a tiny little boob-monster, and am free to go wherever I wish. The possibilities are endless. Although, let's be honest, you'll probably still find me sitting here arguing on ScaryParenting.com and eating chocolate digestives.