("Those who can't do, teach." quoth the potty-hating, teddy-bear-toilet-training toddler)
Potty training is the worst. The worst. Even calling it "potty training" makes it sound productive and regimented. It is, instead, something I try all day not to do, to be nonchalant about. But the small one cannot be fooled. And she can smell the desperation to be diaper-free that festers so close to my psyche's surface. And she laughs and laughs.
She's still young, and I know this. I am not desperate for it to happen tomorrow. It's just. Well. She poops so much. Maybe there's a more delicate way to say that. But it's not a delicate situation. It's five times a day. And my gag reflex is only sharpening.
Also, the potty is in the mix. We've actually been doing potty time since she was a wee babe - 4 months old, if memory serves. So, it started as a partial-elimination-communication thing where we put her on the pot when it was apparent that she needed to go. And it was a good thing back then. Really helped her fussiness and helped us avoid diaper rash. All good. But somewhere along the way, the path got crooked, and us putting her on the pot when we knew she needed to go head-butted with her own elimination awareness. And instead of a smooth transition from using the potty being our prerogative to hers, there has instead evolved some kind of mangled state of being where somehow we have twice as many diapers and twice as much time on the pot. It is not fun.
What I like, in instances like this, is a good strategy. Something to dig my heels into. Not the easy way, but something that seems reliable and at least incrementally successful. Actually, the hard way usually gets a death grip on my mind pretty quick. But a plan is a security blanket for me and I want a blankey. Alas. Here are the many avenues that have dead-ended so far.
The Promise of Underpants.
From my lovely cousin, I was advised that the promise of wearing lovely underwear instead of a diaper could change a child's mind about where to do one's business once she could understand that concept. Edie speaks quite well, I think. She is very (very) verbal and likes things explained to her. So I have told her that if she only poops and pees in the potty, she can wear underwear. Now I regularly have a two year old who walks up to me, beaming, and says "Only poop potty, wear underwear!" And I exclaim "Yes! That's right!" And she says "I pooped!" still smiling. "Right now?" "Yes. Edie pooped." And off we go to change diaper #5.
I have even upped the ante. I have promised underwear of any variety she wants. Horsey underwear has got her pretty excited at the moment. Diamond-studded is available. And still, it poops in its pants.
Let 'er pee her pants. She won't like it.
Oh won't she?! Is that right, world?!?! Can you reconcile, then, the puddle underneath my daughter, on my kitchen floor, and then the subsequent shrug of shoulders (and possible eye roll) when I asked her if she just peed her pants? How about the fact that when we have naked time in the backyard with the kiddie pool - a common event since it's been hot here since March - she gleefully tells me "I'm gonna whiz in my hippo chair!" while she is tearing off her clothes. And then she does. Whiz in her hippo chair, I mean. And she likes it. And only the hippo chair and I are sad.
The flip side is that 50% of the time, she tells you when she is peeing her pants, and acts like she doesn't like it. But she only does it during the event. Not before. So the only purpose of these announcements seems to be to cause everyone else to remark how "ready" she is to potty train, while I stand there, slouching, trying not to look like a mom who is forcing her child to sit in her own waste. Not sure I've got that look down.
Get a potty chair she likes.
Likes the potty chair: check. Gets us any closer to diaper-freedom: HAH! We'd been using a little seat that sits on the big toilet, and that works fine, except that we've found no way to get her up on it safely without our assistance. She's got a stool, but it just doesn't work. So I got one that sits on the ground that you empty out. She LOVES it! Want to know what part she loves? The emptying. How good do you think her accuracy? If you answered: dumps it out on top of the closed toilet lid, then we have a big winner. If you also answered: she tries to do all of this without telling me what she's up to so that I find biohazard spills and not-so-fresh-naked-toddlers around every corner, then I am now worried that you are spying on me.
So where are we at? Nowheresville, man. Except that I now truly see the beauty of the mom's refrain "they won't go to college in diapers." I used to think it defeatist. I know see it as Zen. Except that maybe it just means she will be wetting herself at 22 but won't have a Bachelor's degree....
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