JD used to entertain the notion that she would forever be the star of her life, the leading lady in the days of our lives. As often happens in Hollywood, in my saga the supporting actress is actually the top billed star. I have always wanted to be a mother; I actually majored in child psychology so that I could prepare myself for the task. I would close my eyes and try to imagine my children, what mischief they would cause, the sweetness in their hugs, the activities we would do together. None of those imaginings comes close to the bright light that is my real life Bug.
Our oldest daughter is truly forged from the fire and steal of Muffin and myself. Type A personality, smart, athletic, ambitious, a mini-chief marching steadily in her princess tutu and baseball bat ready to soak up each new day. She came into the world to give us hope and healing after the most traumatic experience we have ever been through and, my, she does deliver. Our three-year old dynamo has a kind heart in a precocious package and a desperate need to control her world.
Control is a dominant theme for three-year olds. As they enter early childhood they experiment with the limits of where they begin and their parents end. They begin this phase at about 18-months but after their third birthday I believe there is a resurgence of independence. By then, Mom and Dad have, hopefully, firmly established their limits with what is allowed so the little person decides who they want to be within those limits. Do I want to be a farmer or a chef? Do I want to wear high heels like Mommy or a hat like Daddy? I have read over and over that in this phase the child will demand control of their own exploration and it seems easy when reading that this is a time to step back and be a facilitory observer rather than a lecturer.
That is easier said then done when changing the dirty butt of a 38-inch small person. I want her, need her, have to have her potty trained. Every ounce of me wants to be finished with diapers/pull-ups. And every ounce of her seems completely satisfied sitting in her own goo. Even when I can smell that she has had an “accident” she refuses to let me change it. This fact alone would suggest that she just isn’t ready so I should let it go. But when she is naked (her birthday suit is her favorite outfit) she is 100% perfect using the bathroom. This single fact has made potty training the biggest bane of my mothering existence. Why will she not do it if she has clothes on? And as the chill of fall sets in, naked time is getting limited again.
We started the process the spring before her second birthday. With the warmth of a new season being naked was a cute option when we were at home so started the praising potty dance. We went to Grandma S’s house and candy rewards were entered into the fray. My niece M, who is six months younger than Bug, was also experimenting with potty training and we were all sure the peer pressure would make our strides permanent. When winter rolled around again and she wasn’t fully trained I didn’t mind too much because she was young. Then came the pregnancy and the thought of having two in diapers was not appealing. We went to see Grandma C in Colorado, then came the premature delivery, then came Grandma S, then came the hospital stays, then Grandma left, then the other Grandma came, then it was her birthday, and with all the change in her life Bug refused to give up the control of going poo in her pants.
This saga will likely be a major story line in my life for months to come. She is begging for more social interactions and wants to go to school, but can’t until she uses the potty. This fact is not enough for her to change. We have tried treats, praise, stickers, big rewards like swimming lessons or school. We have tried everything except giving up and that is where we are now. After a particularly long day in big girl panties, Muffin and I told her we wouldn’t talk about it again. We put the panties ceremoniously away and bought her a box of diapers. When she saw them at the store she told a random passerby, “Hey, look, it’s MY diapers! Oh, yeah, these are for me and not my sister!” I think this will take awhile.
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