We are almost half way through the year and I’ve realized I haven’t accomplished my blogging goals of more random legal cases and history, but why break the streak now?! 95% of my life is my children. Currently my job is a means to an end to buy them stuff. My friendships and my marriage have suffered (noting that suffered is too dramatic a word, but these relationships have been affected). My life balance is a work in progress.
But I am about to start a new adventure: potty training.
Because he is my firstborn, everything I do with him is new. With the second one, I am a little more comfortable winging it. So I’ve done my “research” and here is what I’ve learned:
- According to the google, he is ready because he knows how to pull his britches up and down and “feels” things.
- His new teacher at school ‘loves to potty train’. Um, should I be concerned by this statement?
- Googling “do boys use the little flap in their underwear” will get you nowhere. Or maybe it’s because I didn’t look up the right words to avoid an unpleasant browser history? My husband assures that “men” use the flap, but how do you train a little person? The internet was USELESS to me on this one.
- Apparently, kids learn by watching. Well thank you very much, but I don’t appreciate the audience. Go gawk at Daddy to determine if you want to sit or stand.
- When you have an audience, be prepared to be pushed off even if you’re not done or have even vacated the facilities. That kid loves to flush and will congratulate you for a successful potty experience.
- Go cold turkey and expect a mess – it’s all part of the effing process. He will notice and be uncomfortable, and maybe cry. But this is same kid who eats chips off the floorboard of the car.
CRY?! And therein lies the rub. To get him into the next phase, I have to let him “fail.” I have to let him learn on his own. I can offer support and clean pants, but I can’t do this for him. Everything he’s learned so far was natural: swallowing, chewing, drinking, crawling, walking (because he was able to hold my hand until he was steady), speaking.
Isn’t it weird the things a mother (me) obsesses over? This is his week / month / time. This is his next big step. Sure he may be ready for it, but am I?