With regards to potty training, I'm back to the original plan.
Which is to say I'm back to having no plan whatsoever.
Six months ago I was happy to have no plan, comfortable with my decision to just let Graham start using the potty whenever he damn well felt like it and perhaps even a little proud of my ability to remain unconcerned about something that seemed to get other parents in a lather.
Today having no plan, no inclination and no energy to potty train feels like an epic failure.
About a month and a half ago, when Rob and I were seriously considering stealing south with Graham for a solid week of rest and relaxation at some dreamy resort that economic turmoil had suddenly placed in our price range, I realized that many of the kids clubs at said dreamy resorts didn't take kids who were still in diapers.
Suddenly potty training seemed like a good idea and I resolved that my more than two weeks off work over Christmas would be spent convincing Graham that, despite his assertions to the contrary, monsters do not live in the potty.
The first few days were fairly promising: he was proudly wearing his big boy underwear for a few hours a day and I felt confident that we would soon be kissing diapers goodbye.
Then Rob's mom got sick and it all seemed too much. The pleading, the cajoling, the resultant tears and tantrums: it all seemed too, too much. The day I burst into tears when he refused to sit on the potty was the day I knew I was done.
And so I gave up, I just gave up.
I'm back at work now and we're still waiting for tests and results of tests on my mother-in-law and quite frankly, I barely have the energy to make it through the day, never mind potty train.
Graham's still in diapers, exactly like he was a month and a half ago, but it doesn't feel the same as it did a month and a half ago. I don't feel comfortable or satisfied with my laissez-faire attitude about it: I won't be turning this situation into a charming and humorous post about how he might wear diapers to his prom.
My failure to follow through just feels like a failure, as does the increased television and junk food that Graham is now enjoying and I simply don't seem to have the strength to resist.
And all of this...this shitty parenting - because really, what else can you call it? - just feels like proof that I'm not coping well with this curve ball that life has thrown us.
Apparently all I needed was an excuse to embrace my lazy side. Apparently I'm not as capable a parent, or a person, as I once imagined.