It's one of the most trying times for most first time parents to go through. Some are blessed with fast learning kids who easily use the toilet after a few times. Others- myself included- may want to pull their hair out during the ordeal. There's tears from both parent and child (more so from the prior) and by the end of the day there's a puddle of piss in the floor you don't find until you take a step in it with your socks on.
Yes, I'm talking about potty training.
It's not something I thought I would ever have so much trouble with at the notion of raising a child. I was in a naive state of mind thinking that 'well if I have a kid we'll just take it nice and easy' and picture an almost 50's housewife scenario that included all Stepford wives' smile and the such. Nowadays I sit on the edge of the tub with my hair a fucking mess wondering where the hell I went wrong with this part of child rearing as my 2 year old swings her legs off the side of the toilet.
After weeks of getting practically nowhere with things, I decided to just let Little Monster roam around the house butt naked. At first, she wasn't sure what to do. She even pointed to the training pants with a look my way as if to say 'what the fuck I need something to cover my ass Cap'. After convincing her to leave the sanctity of the bathroom, she immediately lifted her shirt over her head and raced off to show her dad that mommy was, in fact, out of her damn mind. A brief and frustrating conversation with him later, I set an alarm for every 15 minutes and gave Little Monster cup after cup of juice.
I was starting to think that maybe I had lost my mind as I watched Little Monster run around the living room, seeming to enjoy this new liberation from training pants. Her dad kept casting uneasy glances towards kid as if expecting her to either piss herself or shit on the floor like an untrained pup... but then the fucking clouds parted and a miracle happened. Little Monster came to a full stop and started to shift around awkwardly, her hand tugging at her shirt and her little brows furrowed. And then she said a single word that made any doubt for my mental state disappear:
"Poop."
I usher her to the bathroom quickly, almost feeling like a fucking escort or bodyguard for a big wig. Maybe we were finally about to get somewhere with this mess. Maybe I had unlocked some sort of potty training secret like the Indiana Jones of parenting. It was a fucking miracle indeed that we made it to the toilet just in time for her to let it out, and as unusual as it is to say, I was incredibly proud of that dump. Potty training was going to be a breeze! What the hell was I so frustrated about? Several more successful trips to the potty afterwards and I was getting more and more confident that Little Monster may even be fully trained by Mother's Day (note to self: figure out when that is) when her dad stepped in.
"Going as frequent as she is can't be good for her."
"It's working." She was doing fine; there were no accidents since I let her run around the house with her ass bared, but he wouldn't let up.
"At least put some training underwear on her." He just couldn't stand letting her run around without anything on below the waist. Hell, we were at home and no one was around. Let her be free! Let her have fun and shit! It's not hurting anything! But he was persistent and wouldn't listen to me (nothing surprising there honestly) so I put her in a pair. She seemed to take to them fairly well, but wouldn't you fucking know it?
She pisses herself not five minutes after I put them on her.
One short bath and a fresh pair of training underwear later (again, her dad just did not want to listen to me about letting her go naked) we sat her down and told her to say something if she needs to go to the potty. That's something I've had to constantly remind myself during this mess: always take the time to explain to the kid that it's time to grow up and be a big kid, and always TRY to maintain a calm and collective head about it.
See what I did there? It's a task that's easier said than done, and I'll shamelessly admit that I have on occasion had to leave the room because I was just at my wits end with potty training (amongst other things).
Little Monster went about doing her thing, consisting of creating chaos and mayhem in her path. Only this time around, she would stop every so often and look down at her feet to see a dark wet mess spreading beneath her. Of course she would piss herself the instant I put her in underwear. Of course I wouldn't notice it until it was too late to take her to the toilet. Of fucking course I wouldn't find a piss spot until I stepped in it with my sock wearing foot. By the end of the evening, I handed her dad a pull up and had to have him put her to bed.
Maybe potty training isn't meant to be something that's easy. Maybe it's something that tests a parents patience and endurance and willpower. Maybe it's just something that's preparing us for what lies ahead with school and puberty and relationships and shit. Maybe I've yet to really crack the code to potty training a stubborn little shit. There's a lot of 'maybes' and 'what ifs' when it comes to parenting, and I think we're just scratching the surface with this speed bump of a challenge.
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