Maybe it will be the next Olympic sport

We went out to eat tonight, and of course we had to make a trip to the potty while at the restaurant.

So, Kaitlyn and I are in the stall, and she does her business, and I get her off the potty to help her wipe. I'm not sure why, but she finds the wiping part to be hilarious. She laughs - every time.

Tonight she was giggling, and it was that contagious type of giggle. There we were in the stall, both of us cracking up, but me trying to maintain my composure because I am, after all, the mom. Isn't potty training supposed to be serious business?

Meanwhile, in the midst of our giggling, more people have come into the bathroom. I wonder what they must have thought of us.

Me: Kaitlyn - stop it. [giggle] I have to wipe you.

K: [laughing hysterically]

Me: Kaitlyn! I mean it! [laughing] I have wipe you, and we have to change your pull-up.

K: [more hysterical laughter]

At this point she was doubled over in laughter.

You have to picture this - I'm squatting and trying to maintain my balance, while also fumbling with a diaper (I accidentally grabbed a diaper instead of a pull-up) and trying to put it on Kaitlyn. She is bent over, with her little bare butt in the air, giggling and squirming around.

What a sight!

That's when a tragedy occurred - she bumped her head on the floor, and then, of course, the dramatic laughter turned to dramatic crying.

The only thing more difficult than trying to put a diaper on a doubled-over, laughing two-year-old is trying to put a diaper on a standing up, clingy, crying two-year-old.

Do they give out gold medals for this type of thing? If so, I could possibly be the Michael Phelps of potty training. (Minus the tabloid photos and drug drama.)

I finally got the diaper on her when we moved to the next phase of the competition: hand washing. I somehow managed to balance her on my leg while washing both of our hands and trying desperately to avoid splashing water all over the lady at the sink beside me.

"Oh, that's too bad. The splashing will cost some points with the judges - that's an automatic deduction of .5. She does have good form though. Look at her stance with the leg! Now if she can just stick it out and execute the paper towel flawlessly, she might have a chance at a medal."

Pardon my little Olympic fantasy... anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the hand washing. We finished with the hand washing, and I was trying to get myself all put back together while dealing with a dramatic toddler at my feet, clinging to me and screaming, "UP! UP!" as if the other women in the restroom (or maybe the automatic flushing toilet) were going to assault her at any moment.

I picked her up and was halfway out the door when I remembered the full pull-up that I set on the toilet paper dispenser in the stall. Figuring that the next person might not appreciate the perils of an absent-minded mother who was distracted by a giggling (and then crying) toddler who was not wanting to cooperate with the potty training, I thought the nice thing to do would be to return to the stall, retrieve the pull-up, and throw it away.

By the time we made it out of the bathroom and found our way back to the table, I realized I was out of breath.

Out of breath, because of a trip to the bathroom.

Either I clearly need more exercise, or this mothering/potty training thing is harder than it looks.

(Or both.)