Potty Training

Three days, they said on Pinterest, and even an 18 month old could be using the toilet. A day and a half in and my two-and-a-half year old is no longer wearing diapers  - she is using our whole house as a toilet. It’s not really the mess that bothers me, although bending to wipe up and disinfect accidents at eight months pregnant poses its challenges. It’s that preceding every accident or even successful use of the toilet, she gets nasty with me or erupts into a full-blown tantrum without warning. 

I’m baffled. I’m frustrated. I’m tired. I’d expected messes, but I hadn’t expected the emotional ones. She’s sleeping in the backseat now. I glance at her still face in my rearview mirror. We’re parked under the shade of the tree outside our large house, air-conditioning blasting. Normally naps are my time for rest as well, but today the thoughts are buzzing and I cannot squash them quickly enough. Is it too soon? Will she ever be able to do this? Am I able to do this? Am I a bad mother? I let them buzz. I’m too tired to answer. A leaf falls from the tree above and I stiffen as it hits the windshield. Did she hear it? Is she stirring? I’m not ready to let go of this moment of peace in our fitful days. 

She shifts but her eyes remain closed, and I relax. I wonder - if I am so on edge, maybe this is stressful for her too. I look at her little body, completely sunk into the support of the car seat. Such relaxation in contrast to the stiffness that overtakes her in the bathroom. And then - clarity. She is anxious. The tantrums are portents of her fate to remain wild and untamed into adulthood. They’re not a sign that we need to see a counselor immediately. They are her way of channeling feelings too big for her little body. She is worried and anxious about doing something she doesn’t feel confident in her ability to do. 

I can’t imagine where she gets that from. 

The realization brings such peace. I understand my mission now. This goes beyond teaching her to recognize physical signs and respond appropriately. This is the first of many lessons in how to respond when emotions overwhelm us. It dawns on my that up until now, parenting has involved a large learning curve, but it has basically been within my control. Keeping my cool during endless colic, being constantly on call for diaper changes and feeding sessions, picking up, carrying, buckling, washing, kissing booboos - all of it has been work, yes, but work in mastery of myself to respond to her needs. This is my first foray into cooperating with her to learn something.  This is a moment to stop and pay attention. 

What do I learn about my daughter from this process? She is, like her mother, easily frustrated by difficult tasks. She needs extra support and encouragement to learn something difficult. The unknown, when it demands that she perform, is overwhelming. 

Up until now, her emotional needs have been simple and straightforward. No longer. Now, I begin the treacherous journey into something unknown, something difficult - something beyond what I feel prepared to accomplish. I know that she will learn to use a toilet eventually; there are few children who go to grade school lacking this ability. But will I be able to teach her resilience in the face of adversity? Can I equip her with better coping skills than I had as an anxious A-student, always dancing for love and applause, conflating the two? It’s enough for panic to rise within me, and truthfully, I don’t know. But I do know that I can always walk beside her and point her to the One who can.