I hadn’t meant to potty-train Lady Bug. Well, let me re-state that, I hadn’t meant to *re-start* potty-training her before our big road trip this week. Let me catch you up…
We started potty-training way back in December when she was just shy of being 2.5. I actually had no interest in potty-training her. In fact, I had high hopes that between me and her two sisters, she’d just figure it out on her own. HA! But she was displaying all the “readiness” signs and I figured that a “good mom” would put aside her own personal feelings of horror at the prospect of having to spend the next 6 months sitting on the edge of the tub, cheering on every bowel production with a little song, candy and stickers. Maybe occasional confetti and a parade…Clearly, I needed the “good mom” points.
So, I plied the child with copious beverages, put her in a sweater and naky buns and she and I spent a week locked in the hardwood portions of our home. While she had lots of accidents, she seemed to be getting it. Finally, on Day 4, I couldn’t stand being trapped in the house and we ventured out. This expanded my experience to spending LOTS of time dashing to bathrooms with “false alarms”, only to get to wipe out the shopping cart or wash the car seat later. Grr.
Months later, we were still working on it (mostly because I am a total pansy and caved to those lovely, lovely absorbent-and-easy-to-clean Pull-ups far too often). The day she stood there, and peed on the bathroom floor as I hurried to set her potty seat up finally un-did me. I needed to take a break or take up drinking for her and I to survive this experience.
So we took a break. For about two months. I figured after our travel this summer, I’d start again (with Preschool looming as the incentive for me to finally get it done). Then, a few weeks ago, I awoke with a start: vacation Bible school (i.e., a chance for the children to learn about Jesus and the mom’s to get a bit of a break!) started the next week. But she had to be potty-trained to go…this would be the first year all three girls could go….you see where I was going with this. When her chubby little feet hit the floor that morning, I whipped off her sagging diaper and told her that we were “all done diapers”.
Aside from a new morbid fear of automatic flushing toilets (Sorry! That was her screaming like I was killing her at Sam’s last week! Screaming kid echoes reach all the way to the snack aisle…as an FYI), we’re doing remarkably well. Apparently, all I needed was a little incentive.
Next up: How to survive a potty-training child and travel, without Pullups or alcohol…I think.