Get a group of moms together and inevitably the conversation will turn to a handful of ever popular parenting topics. For some unexplainable reason, us women cannot talk enough about our birth stories, breastfeeding woes, sleep deprivation, and potty training adventures.
It's no wonder these topics are consistent fodder for parenting magazines. After all, someone is always having a baby, most women give breastfeeding a try, and by the time our kids get to kindergarten they should be both sleeping through the night and toilet trained.
My admiration goes out to those moms who diligently teach their offspring how to the use the toilet at an early age. One gal I know had each of her children trained earlier than the previous one. Her third child was pooping on a baby potty months before she turned 1 year old thanks to the concept of "elimination communication." Elimination communication is a when parents tune into their individual child's body language and pre talking sounds to know when to place said infant on a toilet. Talk about dedication!
I have met more than one mom who swears by this technique, but personally I prefer the path of least resistance and anyone who has children knows potty training is met with resistance more often than it is not. Like eating and sleeping, whether or not to go potty on the toilet is one of the few things children can control.
For those of who chose not to go the elimination communication route, there are countless parenting books which tout the importance of several cues when it is the “right time” to tackle potty training. Some say little ones who stay dry through their naps are ready. Others will tell you a child able to communicate their need to go can be trained, whether it is with spoken words or sign language. Theories vary with each child and, truth be told, successful toilet training depends on the demeanor of the child and their parents.
I ventured into toilet training Barcelona like someone dipping their toe in a swimming pool before diving into the freezing water. My daughter was about two years old and attending an in-home preschool when I first put her in training pants. I asked her frequently whether she needed to go, but she always shook her head and not long after she would be wet – or worse – and in need of a change.
We potty trained like this off and on for a few months when I decided potty training was not a task I could tackle along with morning sickness. After all, I had read somewhere, children can regress and have accidents upon the arrival of a sibling. So I decided to wait until after Berkeley was born to try toilet training again.
Our family had become the proud owners of a carpet cleaner and Barcelona's fourth birthday loomed on the horizon when I decided to revisit potty training. I vividly remember a four-day weekend during which my husband and I ran our daughter to the toilet, took turns steam cleaning the carpet – and couch – and changing our kid's clothes again and again. At some point we stopped putting any clothes on her and then we were done. I held my breath during our first official outing on day five, and Barcelona held her bladder.
With Berkeley I had hoped he would be inspired by his older sister and toilet train on his own. After all, some of my friends' children had done it! But, alas, my son was not motivated by seeing his sister sit on the toilet. When it became apparent Berkeley would not train himself, I copied another one of my friends and offered to buy my son a “big boy” bed if he used the potty instead of diapers. “No big boy bed!” was his adamant response. I tried rewarding my son with M&Ms, but that only worked until later the same day when I found he had climbed up to the kitchen counter and eaten every candy on the sly.
One day I went to the store and stocked up on several pairs of cartoon character covered underwear. But the possibility of wearing Nemo, Lightning McQueen and Spider Man on his bottom did not delight my son the way it did other little boys we knew. A few months later, I drove to the IKEA store in West Sacramento for the express purpose of buying a large stuffed dragon which I told Berkeley he could have when he went on the potty and no longer wore diapers. The thing gathered dust atop the wardrobe in Berkeley's room as he continued to shun the toilet.
Then, one day when my kids were taking a bath together, Berkeley climbed out of the tub and sat on the toilet. After that I would ask him if he needed to go whenever I changed his diaper, sometimes he did and sometimes he did not. I reintroduced the reward system and started giving him chocolate chips for his positive trips to the potty.
Something shifted in my son and one day his preschool teacher suggested going to the bathroom, like she always did, but this time he ran in there “like it was no big deal,” to quote Miss Dina. Suddenly, Berkeley started talking about chocolate and when he would get to play with his dragon. Since we do not have four solid days to stay homebound, I know the potty training process will not be complete overnight. But as Barcelona would say, “Berkeley, I'm so proud of you.”
Now, if only I could get him to stop saying the word “poop."
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