When I
got pregnant with Evie, potty training was the last thing on my mind.
But as the days have moved on since then, I've gotten the question from
several people. The dreaded question: "So have you started potty
training yet?" My answer is always the same. "No. Not yet. She's not
really ready." The truth? She's ready. She's been ready.
Well...technically speaking. In all the books and blogs you read, the
signs are pretty much the same. And she has had them nailed down for
awhile now. The problem? She just wasn't ready. I was under the
impression that when summer vacation started, I'd have her in running
around all day in underwear outside so the puddles wouldn't be all over
my house. Oh, I tried. I did. I really, really did. But what happened
just made me realize that it wasn't worth it. She had temper tantrums.
Big ones. And always because (and I quote) "I don't want to be a big
girl. I want to be a baby!" So after the third tantrum, I threw in the
towel. Literally. Because she peed on the floor in what could only be a
planned attack on my sanity.
That's
about the time that I decided to go on a new adventure to a land called
"I just don't care". With Abby and Alex, it was different. They were 18
months apart and learning very similar things at the same time. It was
(dare I say) easier. Evie marches to the beat of her own drum. I have
gotten some guff from my mom. In my mom's head, all children should be
potty trained by 18 months, like it or not. So we found out that Evie's
cousin, Lexi, was potty trained and Evie wasn't sure what to think about
this. They are just one moth apart in age. Evie started to compare
herself and didn't seem to like that she was a "baby" and Lexi was a
"big girl". Now, I don't know if this was a major factor, but it set the
gears turning in her brain. I didn't know peer pressure worked at 2 1/2
years old. Sheesh. Then my mom started telling her how she needed to
pee and poop in the potty...a lot. One day, Evie went up to my mom and
said, "Nanny, I peed in my diaper!" (She does this every time she pees
in her diaper.) She was very proud of this. Grandma? Not so much. And my
mom let her know. I think poor Evie was sad that she didn't get a high
five from Grandma. That, I believe was our spark that lit the fire in
the toilet.
That very evening, Evie came home and (you won't believe this) POOPED in the potty. That's right. Not peed. Pooped.
Poo in the potty is an epic moment that only parents can understand the
significance of. (Well...parents and perhaps extremely constipated
people.) She got to call grandma and hear how proud she was of her.
Eight days later, now, and she hasn't pooped in her diaper even once.
She poop trained herself. Ha! I've never heard of a kid doing that
before the peeing. Usually the poopy diapers linger for quite awhile in
the potty-training phase. Well, about three days ago, she started peeing
in the potty. She's now spending several times each day in the
bathroom. My sister-in-law said her third kid potty-trained herself.
Looks like that's what my third child is doing as well. She's
potty-training herself whether I like it or not.
There
in lies my next joy. She wants me to sit with her on the bathtub while
she goes. I don't mind. Really. But it's All. Day. Long. I give her
M&M's as a reward for pooping and so she will go into the bathroom
and try, try, and try harder to go again...to no avail...for a few bits
of candy. And the toilet paper. Oh, the toilet paper! She unrolls and
wipes like more times that I can handle. I have to confiscate it on a
regular basis. And don't try convincing her that she doesn't have to go.
Because that's about the time that she yells at you and tells you that
she does. Hours. I've spent hours sitting in the bathroom with her
today. I'm not exaggerating. I know that I'm not supposed to say this,
but diapers are so much easier! Yeah, I know. Potty training is
important. And believe me, I'm proud as punch! But this has definitely
changed my days. One day, it will be smooth sailing, but the beginning
of potty training is exhausting. For now, I'll cheer, give high-fives
and M&M's, dance around like a proud mama chicken, and be her best
cheerleader. One day, I'll just be glad if she doesn't have poop-streaks
in her underwear. (If you don't understand this reference, you're not a
parent.)
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