Here Comes the Potty Trainer

The way I see it, potty training is a lot like wedding planning. You’re utterly consumed with it for awhile, and then you want nothing to do with it ever again. Plus, both situations are rife with judgment. (Wedding: “I can’t BELIEVE she’s doing a bouquet toss!” and “What is UP with that chapel-length veil?!” Potty training: “I can’t BELIEVE she bribes her kid with candy!” and “What is UP with that 3 ½-year-old still wearing Pull-Ups?!”)

Plus, there’s a ton of misinformation. I was told by someone to buy two wedding dresses in case something happened to one at the last minute. Yeah, right. And the potty training books/DVDs claim that sticker charts work. Yeah, right. Look, to each her own, but my kid could care less about stickers. Same with big-boy undies or a fancy new potty. They sparked mild curiosity, but they were hardly the catalyst for overnight success.

What DID work? Candy. I’m not proud of it, and all the books tell you to never, ever, under any circumstances use food as a reward. But the only thing that compelled Miles to sit his little butt down on the potty was the promise of a “special treat,” aka, candy. So he’s been going faithfully every night before bedtime for a couple months and being rewarded with a lollipop or a couple pieces of candy corn. I suspect the Childhood Obesity Police are hunting me down as we speak. And that the Eating Disorders Emergency Squad and American Society of Dentists are hot on their heels. I give up; you caught me.

At any other time except bedtime, however, Miles could care less about the potty or the treat. “Do you need to go to the potty, sweetie?” “No.” “Do you want to just try?” “No.” Don’t make it a power struggle, all the books caution, leave it up to your child. Listen: if I left everything up to my toddler, he’d still be using a bottle and pacifier and wearing pajamas and Crocs everywhere we go. He needs a little push or he’s going to be wearing Pull-Ups till he’s 12. (This random thought occurred to me yesterday: Anna Nicole Smith managed to potty train her son. Anna Nicole Smith, people!!)

So the consensus among my friends seems to be, once the kid’s going regularly, just do it. Just switch them to underwear and never look back. Let’s examine this philosophy. First, what exactly constitutes “regularly”? Once a day? Once an hour? And once they’re in underwear, what then? Do you, like one of my friends, not leave the house for 2 weeks straight until they really “get it”? Do you, like another mom I know, confine the child only to areas of your house with hardwood floors? Do you cover every upholstered or carpeted surface with plastic wrap? Run after your child with a bucket? The most the books will say is, “Expect some accidents.” Helpful.

And, oh, the stories you will hear. I met one mom at a cocktail party who said her daughter was trained in a day. I wanted to punch her. Another dad said he thought things were all good until one morning his daughter said, “Couch wet,” and it was. I’ve heard stories about feces-covered cribs, kids dropping trou in the middle of a picnic, accidents in Target, accidents at school, accidents in the car. It’s terrifying, people.

And if your child’s in daycare or school or does anything that involves leaving the house, it’s not just your own family and furniture you’re inflicting them on. My sitter visibly flinched and asked warily, “No more diapers?” when I told her Miles was making progress on the potty. But, no, I’m still firmly embracing the diapers for now. I keep waiting for a better time to go full-steam ahead, like after our in-laws visit, during a school holiday, or when we move to a nudist colony in the woods.

All I know is, if Anna Nicole Smith could do it, so can I. And as soon as this stage is over, I will forget about signs of readiness, sticker charts, and character undies as fast as I forgot about personalized napkins, petticoats, and cake fillings. At least until the next toddler comes along. Sigh...

KID ART O’ THE WEEK: It’s a birthday cake, can’t you tell? Although using Play-Doh and dried pasta for a “pretend” food item is asking a little much. Miles promptly took a bite out of his.