Only Sometimes Clever

Potty girl, actually. 

(Note:  If you’re squeamish, and/or if you have no children, you may not want to read this.)

Good gracious, potty training is time-consuming.  My week was spent — way too much of it — on a small stool in the kids’ bathroom, waiting and waiting and waiting.  And waiting.  Then waiting.

The remainder of my time was spent in the laundry room, washing wee little jeans and Hello Kitty underthings. 

In my “spare” time, I directed the three boys in their school work, but, frankly, we didn’t get done as much this week as we usually do.  More than half, but not much more.

Audrey is only 21 months old, but has had an interest in the whole potty business for quite a while.  So, last Friday, to her great delight, we stocked up on teensy tiny underthings  and a potty seat from Target, and the next day, set to work.

It didn’t go as well as I had envisioned.  Given her great interest, and her seemingly complete grasp of the purpose and process, I thought it’d be a snap.  No such luck, though.  On Tuesday, my resolve was wearing thin, after four days of near-constant accidents, punctuated by squeals and cries, tears and arguments when I would sigh, “I’m going to have to put a diaper on you.”  In other words, Audrey’s heart was willing, but her body wasn’t cooperating.  My stepdad brought some much-needed perspective, calling it simply a “timing issue.”  I decided to persist.

After six days of frustration, yesterday, other than one accident first thing in the morning, Audrey was dry all day.  I put a diaper on her for nap time, and that was even dry upon her waking!  And, now I sit her on the potty, and the wait-time is nil;  she knows how to do her business “on demand.”

However, I was still greatly concerned, because she hadn’t pooped in three days.  I figured it was that she knew she was supposed to go in the potty, but she had “stage fright.”  Or something.  Finally, this morning, I decided I was going to sit with her basically forever, until she decided to go for it.  Now, I’m not a potty slavedriver;  she has a nice padded seat by Munchkin, and I gave her frequent “get down and shake out the legs” breaks, and did as many things as I could think of to change positions so she wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.  Almost two hours into our marathon potty session, she finally let it go, crouched on the regular toilet seat, with me holding her under her armpits.*  Woo-hoo!!  (Two hours was really, really long.  I’m very glad that it wasn’t that she was constipated or something, making her physically unable to poop.  But, I decided that she needed to go;  it had been three days since she had!  Apparently, she wasn’t going to go in her diaper.  And, she kept passing gas, letting me know that one was in there, waiting to come out.  So…  I hope I wasn’t a poop slave-driver.  It did work, and it doesn’t appear to have caused any emotional trauma.  But, two hours of Audrey mostly on the toilet was a really, really long time.)

After Mission Poop Success, we went on errands and to the park, and were gone for over four hours, and didn’t have even one accident.  Granted, we took way more potty breaks than we normally would on a shopping trip, but that’s OK. 

Other than her overnight diaper, she hasn’t had an accident in nearly two days, so I think I can say Audrey’s officially potty trained.  I think.  I hope.  Sometimes little ones regress, but I’m hoping that this is it.

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 *I learned about two years ago that the non-Western way of going #2, which is basically to just crouch over a hole in the ground, and NOT to sit down as on a chair, is more anatomically efficient for the poop process, putting less strain on all muscles, joints, and tissues involved.