Trained

“Mommy! I have to use the bathroom!!”

“When you give your child a potty-training pep talk but really you’re talking to yourself…”

The words jolt me out of my sleep. In an instant, I have a quick decision to make. “Just pee in your pull-up,” is the easy way out.

“Huh,” I retort instead … knowing good and well I know what he said.

“I HAVE TO USE THE BATHROOOOMMM!!”

This time, I hear his feet racing to meet me at the bathroom door. “I’m coming …”

The racing feet I imagine are actually a stumbled as her tries to adjust his eyes to the bright light illuminating from the ceiling of the bathroom.

“Come on Pop, pull down," my routine reminders ensue as we clearly have both been abruptly awaken from our slumbers. Before I have an opportunity to warn him, he just goes for it and the stench of urine fills my nostrils as I listen to the “ssssss” sound and observe the liquid squirt into every direction but where it is supposed to. Inside, I’m enraged and screaming but in real life I deeply sigh. “Why didn’t you sit like you always do Poppa?”

“Because I didn’t want to,” as he walks over to the sink and proceeds to pump soap. Frustrated would certainly be the word to describe this mother at 3ish am who only wants to tip toe back to her bed and sleep peacefully. I resolve not to argue with my assertive three year old. I encourage him to get back to bed and let him know how proud I am that he told me he needed to use the bathroom.

You see, the decision to praise him instead of reprimand him was a conscious one I had to make because this whole potty training stint has lasted way longer than I have desired for it to. I could imagine how confusing of a message I would send to him if I expressed how frustrated I was that he peed all over my bathroom floor without acknowledging the fact that he did not pee in his pull-up. These past two years of on again and off again potty training have been a challenge, to say the least. There have been a plethora of moments where I am tossing new outfits into the laundry bin because we did not make it out of the house before he went on himself. There have been countless moment where he has danced his way out of me forcing him to use the bathroom only for him to have, yet, another accident. My voice must, now, play in the background of his mind anytime he attempts to hold it. “Big boys always use the bathroom on the toilet, not in their underwear.”

“I want you to be so proud of yourself when you pee in the potty.”

“Your friends at the big school are not going to be wearing pull-ups. You do not want to be the only one.”

It’s either my voice that has had to help or maybe he has just gotten tired of feeling the sensation of a bodily excretion that could have been reserved for another place. Whatever it is, I’m grateful. As much as I hate running to the bathroom with him every time he screams out, I would take this over his accidents and over paying for diapers and pull-ups!

So I close with letting you all know that I have unlocked, yet, another level of motherhood. My baby is trained.

Much Love,

Cadacia