So I gave up!
I know, I know…but it was just….okay, let me go the long way round so hat you can judge me with all the information to hand.
I’ve read up quite a bit on potty training. do’s, don’ts, and also realised that I have to get to know my child because each child is different. so, armed with these two pieces of insight, I went shopping on Thursday. I got her one of these:
|Toilet trainer seat|
and no, it wasn’t pink cos I don’t like pink as a rule.
And she has a little step for when she brushes her teeth, so I didn’t have to get that.
On Friday, I popped into the shops and got her two packs of underwear. I got two packs of five all with puppies wearing glasses…she loves animals. I also got vests because she wouldn’t need the button under the bum ones when she was fully done.
So, ready to go!
I picked her up from creche and we had a long conversation about how we would start potty training in the morning. I showed her her new vests and underwear and how the seat worked and she was so excited she wanted to open the underwear and tr putting one on herself – which she did. hope were high!
Saturday morning started with a bath and we donned the new apparel. and again I said,
“Roz, when you want to do wee wees or poos, tell mummy and we’ll use the big toilet, okay?”
and she was all,
and ten seconds later she wet herself. I expected that, so I set my watch to 30 minutes, changed her and thew all the wet clothes – underwear, tracksuit bottoms, socks into the washing machine to wait for the next wet bundle.
30 minutes later I said,
“Roz, let’s go to the loo”
“but I don’t want to go to the toilet mummy”
“just humour me honey”
We went and she sat on the loo while I sat on the floor in front of her.
and we sat
And five minutes later I decided to let us go back into the living room, but now I was really nervous and ten minutes later we went to the bathroom again and nothing. And we kept going for the next two hours to no avail.
So snack time. We went into the kitchen and as I was getting something out of the fridge,
“mummy I’m peeing”
okay. it had been two hours so I simply reset my timer, changed her, and explained again.
“Roz, that was a great try honey. Can you tell mummy again if you want to do wee wees or poos? and then we can do them in the big toilet and we can have some chocolate.”
Did I mention that at this stage I had resorted to bribery?
Well, at this stage I had resorted to bribery.
twenty minutes later,
“mummy I want to go to the toilet”
But alas, too late again. She had already wet herself.
Reset timer. Sigh.
But then, but then, but then! forty minutes later she said,
“mummy I’m pooing”
and I told her,
“hold it in zalya, hold it in!”
and I picked her up and ran like the wind to get her on the seat, and success! she did a number two in the loo.
Oh I cannot describe how proud of her I was!
We were high-fiving each other and lots of kisses and hugs and she got the tiniest chocolate egg on the planet to celebrate her success!
then the peeing started again and five wet clothing bundles later, it was time for bed and back into diapers.
I don’t think I’ve ever been more stressed in my life.
Sunday was equally bad but because we went to my sister’s house and the excitement of her cousin may have been too much for her, she wasn’t even making any announcements. I would go to get her for the bathroom and she’d be wet. I started feeling so resentful and horrible about the whole thing that I gave up in the afternoon and put her in diapers again.
I think I will give up for now. I keep telling myself that she’s not really ready. that I gave it a great big shot and at least we both tried.
And you know what? The past week she has been asking for the loo and each time, both Chris and I have obliged with taking her nappy off and getting her on the seat and I am only hoping that even these little acts are helping her on her way.
I suppose because I am trying very gentle parenting techniques, I question myself all the time and ask if I am making the right decision by her, or just wimping out in someway. When I was a kid we were just told that if you didn’t learn to go in the loo or stop wetting the bed, a frog would be tied around your waist that would claw at you if you peed. And sometimes, just sometimes, it crosses my mind to use the same scare tactics that obviously worked with us and were a quick and easy shortcut for parents of that generation.
But Judy Arnall’s question constantly rings in my head when I think this way.
how will this decision affect my relationship with my daughter? and if it isn’t worth it, then I don’t do it.
And what is the hurry with some of these decisions? That I will compare her to various nieces, cousins etc at the time she was fully out of nappies? that it will say something about me as a mother and parent? That I will feel guilty for not being there 24/7 to fully engage with this little sweetheart I have been given and that there’s a tiny voice somewhere inside me saying maybe if I were a stay at home mum I would have cracked this by now?
Yes, all these questions plague me every day. But I’m doing the best that I can with the choices I have made.
we’ll try again over the May long weekend and will keep trying till she is ready herself and makes that leap.
But oh my stars, no one told me motherhood would be so hard on my heart.