Potty

"Ah, potty training. Those halcyon days are behind us, but it doesn't feel like it was all that long ago that I was wrestling Erin into a pair of Snow White (the character, not the color) panties while she howled and flailed her plump little arms around for her discarded diaper. Oh, yeah. The good ol' days. She did potty train FULLY (night and day) in under three days. Katie took 2 weeks. Evan still is not fully trained at night. I am so glad ___ is a girl. Common Mommy Tales and my own experience both point to girls as being easier to train. The world is a beautiful place, and it is just full of potties for her to explore in the coming days. Have fun with that... hee!"
The preceding is an excerpt from an e-mail sent to a mother who is in the thick of parenting. Somebody somewhere did studies looking for a link between potty training and child abuse. I'm not sure why a study was needed. Anyone with less than perfect patience who has been left holding yet another pair of soiled drawers and contemplating the mess could have explained the link. (I am not in any way approving of child abuse ever.) I understand how a parent could reach the end of their rope while attempting to teach a child the very basic act of toileting and proper hygiene in the loo. Whether it takes three days or three hundred, it can feel like forever.
Erin was really my favorite during the potty training period because she really caught on to the idea quickly. (Please note use of the word "quickly"--- not easily.) She was well past capable of going potty on the toilet when she finally gave up her diapers. We had a battle royale one morning after Evan and Katie were gone to big school for the day. I wrestled Erin into the Disney princess panties as described previously. That kid had some serious lungs, and the neighbors all knew somethig was up at our house. I plunked her little trainer potty down in the middle of the living room, and informed Little Bit that she (oh-yes-you-are-Miss-Thing-get-back-here) would be sitting on the potty until something came out of her for me to wash down the toilet like all the other 3-year-old mommies were doing. (To better understand the value of emptying the equivalent of a chamber pot, try spending eight years years elbow-deep in diaper duty as one child follows another.) I then proceeded to park her little rounded caboose on her musical throne. (It played songs. I did not note any music coming from Erin, but that little girl sure could wail.) I flipped on PBS and proceeded to stand over my still defiant 3 year old while she hunkered down on the potty to glare at the t.v.
I went into the kitchen to fix Erin a great big drink. That seemed like a good way to end this little impasse. While I was out of the room, Erin hid her Snow White panties. Apparently, this was an insufficient protest, because she went and put on a fresh diaper. ("Erin Elizabeth! Where are those panties?! Where are they? YOU picked them out. YOU WILL WEAR THOSE PANTIES! YOU WILL SIT ON THAT POTTY AND MAKE.) I tear the living room apart until I finally find the panties buried in the couch. I put the panties back on Erin taking away yet another diaper. I take the package of diapers I was planning to use for nights, naps, and trips out to places with nasty potties and place the package in the dumpster in full view of my lovie.
Back to the living room where I proceed to ply my stubborn girl with beverages in hopes of forcing the issue. She sits on her potty. She glares at the t.v., then at me. She gets up and does some strange little jig by capering around the potty while waving her arms and half-howling/half-singing with her heading wobbling around. (The potty does not burst into flame. Her voodoo dance of death has failed to rid her of the potty.) I give Erin more to drink.
Her belly is now swollen with the excess fluid. I wonder if her eyes really will turn yellow, and will we end up in the pediatrician's office with my daughter about to explode? I question whether I am really as stubborn as she is, and is it truly that big a deal if she goes down the aisle at her wedding in a Pamper? Just as I am beginning to crack, Little Bit shoots me a look of sheer venom before proceeding to fill that little potty with enough pee-pee that there is absolutely no way I will ever be able to get the potty cup to the toilet without spilling and sloshing. I do a little dance and fully congratulate her on her obvious brilliance in making tee-tee on the potty. She is thoroughly unimpressed with my enthusiasm. She decides to never wear diapers again, and has remarkably few accidents even at night. She also refused to ever wear the Snow White panties again.