**Disclaimer: Ok, so I use this blog basically as my journal, and I tend to write about things that are interesting to perhaps only me, or learning experiences that I have had; it is not always necessarily intended to entertain or delight any readers who happen upon it. This will most likely bore you. So if you don't like it, you are welcome to go away!! jk Just a warning, though, if you are looking for pleasantries or are afraid of hearing about bodily functions, this time you've come to the wrong place. Also, this one is very long. Consider yourself warned!
Preface: Ok, so although Drew hadn't shown a ton of interest in giving up diapers (translation- ran and hid under or behind a chair/door/table to do his business....aargh!) I on the other hand, was more than ready. Changing diapers times two was getting mighty old, not to mention the expense! (Just think of what I could do with an extra $30 or so per month!) I knew going in to this thing that the odds were stacked up against me...not only did I have a hider on my hands, he was a hider that would sit and play in a dirty diaper all day and not even say a word. It didn't bother him in the least. But it bothered me plenty. (And you know this is "man-poop" I was dealing with-mothers everywhere, you get my drift, right? Gross!) We had tried a few times in the past, but he just didn't seem ready enough, and we would back off. We knew if we tried again, this was going to have to be be it. No going back this time. After asking around a bit, the consensus was this; our solution could be found at the library: Toilet Training in Less than a Day. (Sounds kinda unrealistic, I think to myself, but whatever...lots of people I have talked to swear by it, and I haven't got any better ideas!) So I get the book, read it, gather the necessary supplies, (gird my loins!) and choose the big day- "P day"- the point of no return.
Day 1: Monday
We head to the grocery store in the morning. I let him pick out whatever potty treats he wants, along with some awesome juice boxes- Capri Sun (which he never gets) and I start talking to him about what we were going to do with all these treats. (The method of training in this book I am going to use has you have the child teach a doll how to use the potty, and reward them with snacks and give them the drinks to get things "flowing", so to speak.) So far, he is playing along with the idea-(I mean, hey...if it involves gummi worms, how bad can it be, right?) We get home and get started. I break out the doll. Dolls aren't really a commodity around our house, so I am assuming he will think this is a novelty. Well it wasn't. He was fine for the first little bit, giving the doll some water and then sitting her in the potty and watching her "pee" but after doing it once, he was bored with that and wanted to go and play with his trains. So I redirect him and we move to the next portion of the training, having him try and use the potty like the dolly. Now this wasn't anything new to him, he has used the potty plenty of times in the past, but not with any regularity, and only when I took him there and placed him on the pot. So he then sits down and goes, no problem. Long story short, we talk about pottying and being a big boy, and practice pulling down pants and underwear and then sitting down and practice running to the potty after an accident for a dizzying 2 hours (that seem like an eternity to both of us!) Now was the time to put the theory into practice. I let him go about his usual, playing with toys, slugging all the juice he can handle, and I nervously stand by, pretending not to be watching him (of course I was, like I want to scrub THAT off my carpet?) And after a long day of teaching, learning, Resolve carpet cleaner, a bucket of rags, and every last bit of patience I had (which wasn't a ton to begin with) daddy comes home and I throw in the towel for the day. Let him take over to understand why I kept I.M.ing him all day saying how great diapers were starting to look!
Day 2: Tuesday
Wakes up wet. (Not surprising.) And puking. (Surprising) Oh, and did I mention, diarrhea running down his legs on and off ALL DAY? (Horrifying!) What to do? He has already made it 24 hours sans diaper, so I don't want to throw away all of yesterday's hard work and confuse him by putting him back in a diaper. Oh why me? Why has mother nature forsaken me once again?! Of all the times for this to happen, why now? As if things weren't hard enough, now we have to deal with being sick on top of all this potty stress? Aargh. Not to mention, mommy is going crazy because I have been cooped up for 24 hours, which I absolutely can't stand. Nothing depresses me more that not being able to go and do my thing. I decide to stay strong and hope that this was merely caused by O.D.ing on juice yesterday, and that things would run their course and be over soon. (As I would come to find out, no such luck...) I continued to watch him like a hawk, so I could catch him in the act so I could help him learn what to do, and, again, to minimize messes. He hadn't done his morning business yet, and I knew it would be any minute now. Then the baby woke up, and so I had to run and get her quickly so nothing would happen in my absence. When I came out of her room, do you suppose my son was anywhere to be found? Of course he wasn't. He saw his window of opportunity and he took it! After searching the house, I finally found him, crouching in the dark behind the bathroom door (RIGHT NEXT TO HIS POTTY) pooping (remember, this is not the easy clean up-type) in his underwear. I was livid! I mean, I have to give the kid credit for at least having gone into the bathroom, but still. Roar! This is not working! As if things couldn't get any worse, later that night, he throws up at the dinner table after eating his entire plate. So much for less than a day- we are going on 2 days now, and it seems like we haven't made a ton of progress, and the poor kid is sick! Can't throw in the towel now, though- I have already spent 2 days cooped up in this snowbound prison, and I'm not about to let some stupid gastroenteritis (I assume) stop me. Man I am hard core.
Day 3: Wednesday
A glimmer of hope: although he doesn't go to the potty on his own, he willingly goes every time I suggest he go. (Which is about every hour or so.) I want so badly for him to have success by staying dry and pottying on his own, so he can understand why using the potty is a useful skill, not just something I cooked up to interfere with his busy playing schedule. Things are starting to look up. He is managing to stay dry for longer periods, and even though I have to keep telling him to go to the bathroom, and even though it seems like I am the one that is trained, not him, it's okay because we are making progress. Then a setback. Daddy comes home, and, of course, I'm exhausted, and my patience has run out. I have already called and vented to a few friends and my sis-in-law, and it seems at this point as if I am doomed to stay locked in at home forever watching for wet pants and ignoring my poor baby daughter's sad cries for attention of any sort...So I hand off the poopy baby off to Marshall while I get started on dinner and ask him to take Drew with him while he changes her because I know Drew is "due" any minute now. (since apparently ever since the incident behind the bathroom door, his new strategy is to start holding it in for days at a time) So as I am fixing dinner, I hear Marshall shout (since he is stuck at the changing table with the baby) "Bubba, what are you doing? Bubba! Bubba! Come out from behind the chair-NOW!" Oh NO. I dart up the stairs...too late. He has already filled his pants, and in transit to the bathroom through Allie's room and across the hall, has managed to trail vile putrescence all across the carpet -putrescence which happens to match the color of the carpet, forcing us to "feel" our way across it as we attempt to clean up the huge mess...(Insert swear word of choice here.)
Day 4: Thursday
I am dying here. If I don't get out of this house soon, I am going to have a nervous breakdown. For the past 4 days, I have done nothing but check for wet pants and do load after load of laundry. Not to mention making my reluctant 3 year old practice running to the potty time after time after time each time he has an accident (which, thankfully, are becoming less and less, which is the smidgen of hope that keeps me from running out to Costco and buying a year's supply of diapers.) Oh, by the way, did I mention that whatever stomach bug Drew had, he has lovingly shared it with me. So now we were competing with toilet time- we have become potty pals. So, go ahead: add that insult to our injury-whatever... Like I am supposed to be surprised here? At this point, I decide I am going to take my chances and run out to do an errand, something small and quick, to see how things go when we have to take this show on the road- not to mention, get us the heck out of the house!! Round trip, we were gone about and hour and a half, and thankfully, he stayed dry the whole time. That was nice. (Of course, had I not been armed with a case of paper towels, a jumbo pack of wipes, extra clothes of all types as well as bags for disposal, I am sure something would have happened-Murphy's law.) After stopping for a Dr. Pepper on the way home, my sanity felt replenished, and I decided I had the strength to go on after all. I thought maybe another tactic to get him to be more responsible for things would be to use his trains as an incentive. I had him lose them for having accidents, and earn them back when he went in the potty. This worked pretty well for a day or so, but it doesn't take a kiddie shrink to predict that it eventually started to turn into a game, so I decided maybe that wasn't a good idea after all. Although he was having some success, I could tell he still wasn't that into it. He still wouldn't go potty without me telling him to, and was still having accidents, and flat-out REFUSED to do #2 where he was supposed to (even when I told him that Lightning McQueen on his underwear would be SO sad if he got poop on him, to no avail.) Enough was enough. Every child development and potty training website I found kept insisting that you shouldn't pressure a kid that just isn't ready or willing to be potty trained, and never to punish or take away priveleges. They all said just to back off and not to push things. I decided I agree with this. The last thing I want to do to him is Freudize (word?) him and give him some kind of a complex. So I sat down with him before bedtime and told him that if he wanted to wear diapers, it was totally fine, if he wasn't ready for all this, that we would totally understand, and that it was all his choice. "No, I want to wear underwear" was his answer. "Are you sure?" I ask him. "We won't be mad at all if you want to go back to diapers." He insisted that he really wanted to keep trying, and I was very relieved. We had already devoted 4 days to this endeavor, and it would be really disappointing to turn back now. On we go...
Day 5: Friday
Does pretty well at staying dry most of the morning. Passes all of his dry-pants checks. I decide to put his alleged willingness to the test, by not reminding him or sending him to the bathroom, just to see what he would do if left on his own to decide whether to pee his pants, or take a break and go to the potty by his own choice. I give him juice and casually eye him as he is playing, pretending to be unaware (although I know he has to pee so bad he can hardly stand it). Pretty soon he started pacing, and going around and around the family room, doing laps, (as if somehow this would stave off the urge?) and finally, a major breakthrough. "I'm just going to go potty," he mumbled to himself, as he walked into the bathroom, sat down and did everything he had been taught to do independently, as I sat watching, BURSTING with joy. This was huge! My entire week of pain suddenly all seemed worth it. Then I did the "dance of joy" for him (you'll have to ask him about that one...I'm not telling) This breakthrough was all I needed. Later on that night, my husband had a church b-ball game, and I decided to go, since they are only an hour. I knew the kid was "due" again, but I felt confident enough in his skills that simply talking to him about what not to do while we are at the game would suffice. Although he still hadn't successfully pooped in the potty yet, I figured if he was holding it, he would at least do so until we got home. Wrong. Long story short, I didn't get to watch much of the game. Sigh.
Day 6: Saturday
I am loving the fact that he now takes the initiative to go to the potty by himself without me having to tell him all the time. I am so impressed by his ability to tackle what seemed like an insurmountable obstacle, and I am so incredibly proud of him. But we still have the pooping hurdle to overcome. Not just any poop, though- the exploding kind. How can mother nature be so cruel? He wakes up in the morning and our new routine is to send him directly to the potty. Finally- what we've been waiting for: (WARNING: this next part may gross you out but I don't care because I think it's funny and it's my blog, and I can write whatever I want-so stop reading if you don't like funny kid quotes about their own poop.) "What does that smell like?" we hear him say to himself from the next room, as we are still laying in bed. We were dying, trying to avoid laughing and embarrassing him. Obviously this was a new experience for him and he was trying to figure things out. This was a major breakthrough we had been waiting for.
Day 7: Sunday
Our friend Montezuma has decided to prolong it's stay, so the poor kid spent a good part of the morning running to the potty urgently. I decide that this bug he has may not be a curse after all- although I do feel sorry for him, I also realize that this has presented us with a great teaching opportunity. He amazes us with his ability to get there on time, and to do his thing, and to carefully clean up after himself when he is done. Things seem to have settled back down, so we decide it's safe to move on to the next obstacle: Stake Conference... tricky. Being packed like sardines into a gymnasium for 2 hours straight on hard chairs along with 400 other people who are desperately trying to entertain their kids, meanwhile trying to get something out of it (riiiiiight....) Bring it on, we decide. So halfway through, and to my delight, he tells us he needs to go potty (the 5 sweetest words I have heard all week) and so Marshall takes him out and it's all good. What a dream this seems like, after the battle we have fought this week. Sweet victory.
This week has been a huge learning experience, not only for my child, but for me as a mother. I had not anticipated the latter. For one thing, it forced me to drop everything (which is saying a lot for a busybody like me) and give my child my undivided attention for an entire week. I had absolutely no idea what wonders this would do for my relationship with him. He has always been a total daddy's boy, and now I kinda get it; it's partly because Marshall is always really good at giving Drew his undivided attention (not to mention he's a human jungle gym- but I think that's just one of the perks of being a daddy). We spent countless hours this last week reading book after book after stack of books, and playing endless rounds of Candyland, and building train tracks together. Another thing I have learned along this journey is a bit about agency. This was my first real experience with dealing with an aspect of parenthood that I ultimately had no control over. Everything else I have done regarding parenting I had the ultimate control, and I could require compliance. Not so much with this thing. After teaching him what was right, it was difficult for me to have to step back and let him use his agency, and decide for himself what he was going to do. (Imagine how hard it will be when he gets to be a teenager. That is going to kill me!) Hopefully along the way I will learn to relax a little and trust my child to make the right decision after we have taught him right from wrong. But I realize he certainly won't always make the right decision, and I hope I can continue to always let love (not anger or frustration) be my motivation for discipline. Although we aren't totally out of the woods with the potty training, we have come a long way in a relatively short amount of time, and even though it has taken much longer than was initially prescribed, I am glad because I know I am such a better mother for having gone through this together with him.
