Poopy pants

for the past three days in a row, because of my incredibly lax approach to toilet training (read: I WILL WAIT UNTIL DREW GETS HOME TO TACKLE THIS), Rachel has had major poops that have soaked through her Pull-Ups and soiled her pants, her shirts, her sweaters...of course, Drew hasn't had to deal with this. I have.

Last night I got very upset and scolded Rachel that she MUST tell Mommy when she has to poop (she being Rachel, not me), and I went on and on for quite a while. That's because the poop was all over her legs, her clothes...etc. I'll spare you more of the gory details. Anyway, Rachel got very upset and started crying -- when I got her out of her clothes, during her bath, when she finished her bath. I finally recovered myself while I rocked her in the glider and I made her promise to tell me when she felt like pooping so I could get her to the potty in time.

Well, she did slightly better tonight; she told me very politely during dinner that she had to go to the potty -- and she peed in the potty! I was so excited; she wanted to empty the potty "all my myself!" into the toilet AND clean in out. (I did the latter, of course). Afterwards I bent down and met her eye-to-eye and said, "Rachel! I am so proud of you for telling me that you had to pee before you went to the potty!" She gave a huge grin and we went back to the dinner table (much later I will teach her that we finish our meal completely before going to the bathroom. Small steps, right?)

After a bit she announced, "I don't like pooping and I don't like peeing. I just like farting." Which I should have interpreted to mean that she had to poop RIGHT THEN, but of course I was reading the newspaper and not really paying attention. But then she got that look on her face and I said, "OK, Rachel, are you pooping?!? Hurry! Let's go to the potty! Hurry! Hurry!" We raced to the bathroom but it was too late -- poop all over her Pull-Up, her pants, her shirt. And it was a big, messy one too; another worry that this is the third day she's had diarrhea.

I tried not to get too upset but she could tell I was perturbed. She started crying a little when I pulled her clothes and Pull-Up off and took care to get her binkies out of the way when I cleaned her off. (Yes, the binkies. We're getting rid of them when Drew comes home). Just as I was about to launch into a long lecture AGAIN about telling Mommy AHEAD OF TIME when she needs to poop, she looked at me and said earnestly,

"I love you, Mommy."

That was followed by something indistinguishable, along the lines of, "I like you play."

"You mean, 'I love you because you play with me?' I asked.

"Yeah," she answered. "That's what I meant."

Now tell me, how can I possibly resist that?

Can somebody please reassure me that Rachel will, in fact, master the potty before she heads off to college?