On Menopaus and Potty Training

My daughter and I have entered interesting stages in life.

As a mom who is 21 with 19 years of life experience, I am going through the hormonal mid-life phase that drives many women into psychoanalysis. Our mothers experienced this exhilarating plateau as their daughters were entering womanhood. These can be turbulent times as the biochemistry of each female forces unfamiliar experiences to surface at very inappropriate times.

In our case, Ainsley is entering the last phase of potty training. Thank God she isn't going through puberty at the same time! She has decided she no longer needs pull-ups at night, and I have pledged never to buy them again (yesssss!) She is very proud when she wakes up in the morning and is still dry. Occasionally, she has an accident during the night, but she is fabulous about getting up, changing her clothes and coming downstairs to tell me about it. I am a slacker mom, so I just let her climb in bed with me and snuggle until morning when I change her sheets.

A couple of nights ago she came to our bed at about 3:00 a.m. I was sleepy enough that I did not hear the reason for her appearance. An hour later I awoke to soaking sheets. I reached over to see how wet she was - and why she wasn't awake. Then I realized the majority of the moisture was under ME!

I muttered something under my breath and got out of bed. As I stomped into the bathroom to change my clothes, it suddenly dawned on me that I was soaked from head to foot.

"GEEEEEEZ! I didn't drink that much water after brushing my teeth!" I thought to myself.

Then it dawned on me. I had just had my first major hot flash - no, this was more like a late-July torrential downpour - since before my hysterectomy. And I couldn't decide if I should be relieved that it wasn't pee - mine or Ainsley's - or completely ticked off for what it really was.

At least this way I could throw down a towel and return to sleep, so there's an upside. The house is not in complete hormonal upheaval with teenagers and a menopausal parent. There's another plus. Perhaps by the time they enter puberty I'll be through the rough stuff and poor Steve won't feel like he is in his own personal hell.

Ainsley came down again last night because of a bad dream. Just after she got into bed between us, the dog threw up in the doorway. I woke Steve up to let him handle this one. After all, why should I have all the fun? Then, as things finally settled down and we were all back to sleep, our alarms went off to remind us that the night is short. At 5:00 I awakened to the soft, gentle music of Josh Groban. It is a slow and peaceful way to start my morning, that is, until 5:01 when Steve's alarm clock rips open my cloud of lucidity with The Beasty Boys. I swear it gives me heart failure every time. Uh-oh, here comes another flash. . .