Life as a London mummy: Riana’s latest column is now here

This month I’ve acquired a new handbag. It’s black and white and has become the most important accessory in my wardrobe. Unfortunately, it’s not Chanel. It’s a penguin-shaped portable potty. Yes, we are officially in the depths of potty training.

I’m not sure there’s a more humbling stage of parenthood than enthusiastically congratulating your child for doing a poo in public. There I am, crouched on a busy London pavement applauding my toddler’s perfect aim, while attempting to preserve her dignity … and my own. “Well done, darling. Mummy is so proud of you,” I say as I wipe her down in front of a queue of passing strangers. Some look mildly horrified. Others offer a knowing smile of someone who has survived this not-so-glamorous phase of parenthood themselves.

Like many modern parents, I approached potty training armed with an online course that promised my child would be fully trained in three days. The premise was simple: clear your diary, stay at home, remove the nappy and dedicate yourself entirely to monitoring bodily functions. Day one involves a surprising amount of wee on the floor. Day two, slightly more confident wee on the floor. Day three, a short outing and, allegedly, a fully potty-trained child.

My first issue with this approach was logistical. Who exactly has three consecutive days to spend indoors doing nothing but watching a toddler for signs they may or may not need the toilet? My second issue was, while I'm delighted for any parent whose child mastered it in 72 hours, our experience – and apparently many others’ - has been rather less straightforward. Adding to the challenge, our nursery requires children to wear pull-up nappies while potty training. Entirely understandable, of course. But when accidents happen, my daughter doesn't really notice, which can feel like taking two steps forward and one step back.

So, if you're currently being told potty training can be completed in a long weekend, allow me to offer some reassurance that sometimes it takes a little longer – and that’s OK. And sometimes that longer journey involves carrying a penguin-shaped potty across London for the foreseeable future. Which I’m also OK with.

Unsurprisingly, all of this potty-training chaos has made me look at my interiors rather differently. I have started assessing my home through the eyes of someone constantly asking, ‘Can this be wiped clean?’ Earlier this month, I attended the launch of playmat brand Totter + Tumble's latest collaboration with Morris & Co, and it's fair to say I've had my eye on the collection ever since. The new playmats feature some of the iconic English designer’s best-loved heritage prints that blend seamlessly into the home. They wipe-clean, are antibacterial and they’re double-sided, which means you can switch up the look throughout the year. It's one of those rare parenting products that manages to be both useful and beautiful, even amongst the toys, snack crumbs and portable potties.

Staying on the subject of all things toileting, I recently joined comedian Katherine Ryan for a delightful breakfast and brilliantly honest conversation about what has been dubbed ‘The Labour Poo’.

Before giving birth, I can honestly say it was one of my biggest fears. It's ridiculous when you think about it - our bodies are about to do one of the most extraordinary things they're capable of, yet so many of us are lying there worrying about whether we might poo in front of our partners. Recent research commissioned by Andrew found three in four women feared it happening during labour, while one in six women said they'd never talk about it with anyone.

Speaking to Katherine, women's health expert Dr Ria Clarke and We Are Regular co-founder Joely Gabrielle, it quickly became clear just how common those fears are. The irony, of course, is that once labour actually begins, it barely registers. Did I poo? Yes. Did I care? I didn’t even know. In fact, it became one of the most insignificant parts of my birth story.

Katherine had the room laughing so hard we were all in danger of having an accident ourselves, but I left thinking there was a serious point beneath the humour. Women spend so much time worrying about things they simply shouldn't have to. We fear perfectly normal bodily functions at the very moment our bodies are doing something extraordinary, while raising children to believe there's nothing shameful about theirs.

Which brings me back to my daughter and her penguin potty. One minute you're terrified of pooing during labour, the next you're cheering your toddler on as she does exactly that in the middle of a London pavement. Somewhere along the way, the embarrassment crept in. It wasn’t something we were born with, it’s something we learned. Perhaps that’s something we can teach the next generation to leave behind.