There's a distinct and yet very fine line between the phrases "We're Potty Training", and "He's Potty Train-ED!!!" Let me just say that it's such a fantastic place to be speaking the latter! Our first go-around with potty training a kid was harder than I expected it to be. I never imagined I'd be making phone calls to share the joy that Tyson had finally pooped in the toilet, but it was a great thing to celebrate (that moment happened at the Homestead in July, actually, and we celebrated with a Potty Party--cake and everything). Now when he does his business, he tells me firmly but still respectfully: "Mom, GO AWAY." Back at the beginning of the year, when Tyson started showing interest in the lavoratory, we found this amazing book called Pirate Potty. I have never been a fan of "potty humor", but I must say that I found this book has a great way to make potty training fun...and hilarious at the same time. My favorite lines are "X marks the spot", and "Anchors Away." From the time Tyson showed interest and began going #1 in the toilet every day to the time he learned how to go #2 on his own without me reminding him totaled a whopping 7 months. That was hard.
Because there were too many bad experiences to account for within that time frame, I will choose to share my favorite story of them all:
In June, I decided that maybe Pull-Ups were no longer a good idea, because no matter what, Tyson was still having his 1 accident each day. I thought that the only way he would be able to conquer going #2 in the toilet would be to get rid of the Pull-Ups...well, turns out that it just made for a messier accident each day. By this time in our daily life, Emmett was very mobile and NEVER wanted to be alone, so he'd crawl at turbo speed to wherever we were. I happened to be babysitting Hudson on this particular bright sunny morning, also, so I was a little spread thin trying to potty train with 2 other babies in the house. At any rate, Tyson liked to disappear to his bedroom and close the door to do his business. He hid instead of going to the bathroom, and then informed me of the mess. I jumped up from the couch, ran to the bathroom, and tried to get Tyson to finish going in the toilet. Then I sat him in the bathtub as I took the soiled underwear to swish around in the water because my mother woulnd't approve of throwing away underwear when we can wash things like that (even if it is disgusting). As I swished the soiled underwear around in the toilet water, I saw from my peripheral vision, a tiny little hand reaching from the middle of nowhere--baby turbo-crawling-speed was reaching into the germ-infested-abyss of the toilet. My brain was having an adrenaline surge in order to protect the child from impending disease and doom--without realizing it, my brain told my hand to flush the toilet because I was done with the swishing. As I flew to the sink to wash Emmett's hands because his thumb was already going to his mouth, I heard from Tyson in the bath-tub in his most astouded tone, seeping with disdain, "MOM! We DO NOT flush underwear or diapers down the toilet! That is GROSS!"
My entire world stopped. I thought, "You've got to be kidding me. I did not just do that." I even walked over to the toilet, still sporting the baby on my hip (germ-free, I might add, since that's obviously what was most important to me at the time) and looked inside and around the toilet twice to double check that the underwear was nowhere in sight. Sure enough, I had flushed the underwear down the toilet. I...not the toddler...had FLUSHED the underwear down the drain. No one hears stories of the ADULT of the family doing something of such a nature--it's always the CHILDREN!
The idea was embarrassing to me...don't get me wrong, I laughed a little...especially as I told Tyson he's right, that we should NEVER flush anything down the toilet that shouldn't be in there. Mostly, though, I had my family laughing at me--I petitioned my parents and siblings to take over. I announced to them through text that, "clearly, I am incompetent" in the matter of potty-training, and to PLEASE come do it for me.
Luckily enough...just a month later, we actually reached the coveted landmark of having our toddler potty-trained. He's a big boy now, who doesn't want me to see his underwear anymore, and who can do his business without receiving consequences or rewards. I'm so proud of him, and glad it's over. Way to go, my little Pirate Potty boy. I love you!