Potty Training Essay

Potty training is the single worst thing about having kids (my opinion may change once I have teenagers). I have been through this fiery furnace once before so you'd think that I could handle it, but the little beast will not be tamed!

I came across an essay I wrote shortly after potty-training Rivka and it is helping me keep my perspective. I originally wrote it with the intent of getting it published in a magazine requesting parenting articles (I was too lazy to actually send it in), but now I am publishing it myself- ha!

I have never met anyone who enjoys changing diapers, or who hasn't dreamt of that wonderful day when potty-training is over and there is suddenly more room in your purse and more money in your bank account. But what about that awful in-between stage of learning and, yes, peeing all over the carpet? All the recent talk of potty-training in a day bolstered my already soaring confidence that this whole parenting thing was a piece of cake and certainly MY child would have no difficulty mastering this simple skill. In the back of my mind I could still remember from my childhood the towels that frequently dotted the hallway floor, marking the many accidents my brothers had during their training process. But surely my mother must not have been as enlightened as I; she must not have read as many articles on the subject, for, you see, I was an expert.

The "Big Day" was a big flop. I forgot to factor in the attention my breast-feeding baby would require and by the end of the day our entire living room was damp and my 21-month-old daughter was once again in diapers. I tried delegating the responsibility to my husband, even generously offering to watch the baby one Saturday, but that tactic only generated tension in our marriage. For the next few months I plotted and schemed. I knew there must be a way to get this child to do what I wanted. I felt I had failed; I felt stressed and pressured. I had another baby on the way and knew that three kids in diapers was too much for me, but what was I to do? The potty chair continued to sit in our bathroom unused.

Months later I noticed a "Potty Power" video at the library and checked it out, hoping it would spark her interest in the subject. After watching that silly tape more times than I could count, a queer thing happened. She became self-motivated. Sure, I prodded her along with jelly beans and high fives but the true motivating force was that she so desperately wanted to be a "big kid". She wanted to wear her princess underwear, thrust her little fist in the air, and proclaim "I've got potty power!" Her self-esteem soared and the battle of wills I had been losing ceased to be a battle at all. It still took patience and a smile as she tinkled all over my couches those first few days, but now we were working together, both of us believing she could do it. I learned to truly listen to my daughter, to adapt to our particular circumstances, and to stop comparing her to any other child. Mommy finally got potty-trained!