over a week ago, we started potty training mischaela. it was a combination of reasons that made me want to try it now, read: early. it was the longest foreseeable period of time my husband and I will be both home, giving mischaela the biggest window of opportunity to conquer the toilet. in addition, according to articles on the topic, mischaela was displaying certain signs of readiness in how she could sit for long periods of time, hold her pee in for more than an hour, and most markedly, tell me whenever she was peeing or pooping in her diaper. and according to my mom and aunt, both my brother and I, and both my cousins were potty trained by 14 months... with a lot of work on my mom and aunt's part. so it seemed possible that mischaela could do this.
and so we began.
the first day started out promising, with her peeing in the potty within a minute of me putting her down to sit, followed with 6 other successes that entire day. she really wasn't a fan of the bare bum approach I was taking with her, but seemed to like feeling successful. but then, day two was when it began to unravel at an alarming rate. she went from tolerating potty time, to peeing only when she wasn't sitting on the potty, and crying terror every time we took her to the washroom. by day three she stopped playing with her toys altogether, resolved to hold her pee in for hours, and clung to me like saran wrap to itself. each day passed with increasing trauma and anxiety. my sweet little girl turned into a stressed out monster, who began to wake multiple times in the night crying "ma ma, up! poo poo, no!" leaving me exhausted and frazzled. she knew what she needed to do on the potty, but somehow couldn't make her body respond perfectly to her wishes and that was it. her world as she knew it, was over. she couldn't handle the frustration. she hated feeling our frustration. my little over achiever felt like a failure. and it broke my heart to see her feel so deflated in life.
on one particularly terrible day, I would go as far as stating it was our worst day ever together, she was on time out number two during her bath time, time out number TWO people, during bath time - bath time, the guaranteed happy time of any and every day, where my husband and I closed the door to the bathroom and left her standing on the bathroom mat naked, but dry - we have a heart, and stood outside the door waiting for the two minutes to pass. after those painful two minutes were up, my husband and I opened the door only to find mischaela bawling beside a half-unraveled roll of toilet paper, with her hand desperately pulling on more while pointing to her tears and exclaiming, "wet! wet!" she had seen us tear off many pieces of toilet paper in the past week to wipe her numerous tears and for customary purposes, wipe her (dry) bum during potty time. but in her most darkest hour, she could not for the life of her figure out how to tear a small square for herself, resulting in a seemingly never-ending stream of toilet paper tormenting her pain.
it was a sad moment.
but kind of funny. and my husband and I exchanged a silent chuckle at the scene while we bent down and comforted our little miss mischaela.
and for many following nights, my husband and I lay exhausted on the couch and wracked our brains for ideas to tame this disaster, control this train wreck, bandage the gaping wound, when finally, it became clear that now was not the time to tame, control or bandage, but a time to reassess and restore. after consulting with my aunt and dad, and various other parents who had encountered similar battles, we decided that we'd give mischaela the choice.
the next morning, we asked mischaela if she'd like to wear her underwear? or a diaper? and without hesitation she said, "dia-pah". so diaper it was.
and now, at the end of every day, I am thankful I get to clean up her toys. because it means she is full of life again and playing.
we'll pee in the potty another day.
and so we began.
the first day started out promising, with her peeing in the potty within a minute of me putting her down to sit, followed with 6 other successes that entire day. she really wasn't a fan of the bare bum approach I was taking with her, but seemed to like feeling successful. but then, day two was when it began to unravel at an alarming rate. she went from tolerating potty time, to peeing only when she wasn't sitting on the potty, and crying terror every time we took her to the washroom. by day three she stopped playing with her toys altogether, resolved to hold her pee in for hours, and clung to me like saran wrap to itself. each day passed with increasing trauma and anxiety. my sweet little girl turned into a stressed out monster, who began to wake multiple times in the night crying "ma ma, up! poo poo, no!" leaving me exhausted and frazzled. she knew what she needed to do on the potty, but somehow couldn't make her body respond perfectly to her wishes and that was it. her world as she knew it, was over. she couldn't handle the frustration. she hated feeling our frustration. my little over achiever felt like a failure. and it broke my heart to see her feel so deflated in life.
on one particularly terrible day, I would go as far as stating it was our worst day ever together, she was on time out number two during her bath time, time out number TWO people, during bath time - bath time, the guaranteed happy time of any and every day, where my husband and I closed the door to the bathroom and left her standing on the bathroom mat naked, but dry - we have a heart, and stood outside the door waiting for the two minutes to pass. after those painful two minutes were up, my husband and I opened the door only to find mischaela bawling beside a half-unraveled roll of toilet paper, with her hand desperately pulling on more while pointing to her tears and exclaiming, "wet! wet!" she had seen us tear off many pieces of toilet paper in the past week to wipe her numerous tears and for customary purposes, wipe her (dry) bum during potty time. but in her most darkest hour, she could not for the life of her figure out how to tear a small square for herself, resulting in a seemingly never-ending stream of toilet paper tormenting her pain.
it was a sad moment.
but kind of funny. and my husband and I exchanged a silent chuckle at the scene while we bent down and comforted our little miss mischaela.
and for many following nights, my husband and I lay exhausted on the couch and wracked our brains for ideas to tame this disaster, control this train wreck, bandage the gaping wound, when finally, it became clear that now was not the time to tame, control or bandage, but a time to reassess and restore. after consulting with my aunt and dad, and various other parents who had encountered similar battles, we decided that we'd give mischaela the choice.
the next morning, we asked mischaela if she'd like to wear her underwear? or a diaper? and without hesitation she said, "dia-pah". so diaper it was.
and now, at the end of every day, I am thankful I get to clean up her toys. because it means she is full of life again and playing.
we'll pee in the potty another day.
3 comments:
A book that I found helpful and is less of a "boot camp" approach for a young age is "Early Start Potty Training". I found it low key, but encouraging and picked it up at our local library. Just a thought. -L. Stevenson
Ohhh...so sad but funny at the same time! I think my parents potty trained my sister through bribery...I seem to remember dad mentioning something about chocolates improted from London, England!
all i have to say is wow. you guys are all troopers.
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