Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Bathroom Victory

{DISCLAIMER: This post is about potty training. Bathroom words are involved.
Carry on at your own discretion.}


Two weeks ago, this happened. Not one to let opportunity pass, I summoned all the courage and carpet cleaner I had, and I dove in headfirst.

You cringed at that last part, didn't you? Sorry.

Let's go back a few years. On Nathan's second birthday, we woke him with a hug and a pull-up. I was under the impression that this was the age of toilet training and we were going to get started, whether he liked it or not. As one would imagine, he simply used his cute little pull-up as a diaper. It didn't faze him in the least. Therefore, when we moved to our current home about four months later, we decided to leave the pull-ups in central Arkansas. It was full-time undies for this kid.

Yeah. That didn't work, either.

We pushed and he pushed back. He peed on the floor and I cleaned it up. He battled with me, his dad, his grandparents, and his day care teachers until one day, it clicked. Nathan decided he was ready to use the potty and so he did it. I vowed then and there that waiting would be the name of the game during my next attempt at potty training. Waiting and quite a bit of bribery. This, my friends, brings us to the present {well two weeks ago tomorrow}.

Prior to Day One of potty fun with Owen, I prepared the arsenal. I did not study any particular method, but I crafted my own plan and I was going to stick with it. This involved a bucket of potty pops, a package of pull-ups, and a teetering stack of size four undies. A container of Clorox wipes sat at the ready in the bathroom and the Resolve was tucked away beneath the sink.

It was go time, y'all.


Once Jonathan left for work and we shipped Nathan off to first-grade, we began. Every single half hour that kid was awake, I asked him if he needed to potty. Sometimes I was met with a "No, thank you. I fine." Sometimes it was "NO, MOMMY!" And sometimes it was an enthusiastic "Yes!" And wouldn't you know it, that Resolve stayed put all weekend.

{The Clorox is a different story. Aim takes practice.}

I stayed on top of him for three days. I followed him to every room of the house, watching him build towers, read books, and ransack his toybox. If I had a dollar for every time I uttered, "Owen, tell Mommy when you need to potty, please," I would be able to buy him a really good potty prize. I started to get tired of the whole Helicopter Potty Mom routine and feared my little buddy would, too. He didn't, though. I kept asking and he kept answering. This continued for three days until the magical moment when he told me he needed to go. Eureka!

Owen has done awesome. Surprisingly awesome. As in, I'm afraid to write these words because I'll jinx it and he'll pee all over the couch. He's had a few accidents, but nothing major. He simply stops, apologizes, and finishes in the potty. Maybe there was one horrifying episode of tub poop during date night, but we'll chalk that up to breaking in the grandparents. The intensive training was almost two weeks ago, and he's still doing great.

I am pretty proud of that little dude.

These results are not typical, especially for a boy, but if you want a piece of potty training advice, I have one thing: do not rush. If your mom is telling you it's time, if you are sick of buying diapers, if a magazine article says you're behind, it doesn't matter. Your kid will not respond to any method you throw at him unless he is ready to do it.

Then you can jump in with both feet. Watch for puddles!

Have a happy hump day, y'all.



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