This is not really a post about potty-training. It is more a post about my failures as a mother and the wonderful healing balm of forgiveness. I'm writing in the hopes that some mother who is suffering from peer dependence or has read too many parenting books or posts about when and how things should happen without really considering their child, will perhaps do better.
Nothing has been harder for me than potty-training my children. Well, it wasn't really the potty-training. Potty-training is representational. It is about the expectations I have for my kids and potty-training is the thing that laid open the worst instincts I have as a parent.
1) I thought I was patient. It was clear to me that Ben wasn't ready to leave diapers behind at 2; so I patiently waited until he was 2 1/2 and then embarked on two years worth of frustration and read more books, white papers and posts on potty-training than I care to admit. New methods were tried out as I became more and more agitated. I lost my cool a few times and ranted and raved to him about why he couldn't remember, why didn't he care, but I did ok. I quit trying for months at a time, usually starting anew at the 6-month mark.
2) I could not be happy for people who had kids who potty-trained easily. I would hate to admit the rather vindictive feelings that welled up in me when friends matter-of-factly talked about their success potty training in a day. In my worst moments I felt like a total failure and wondered why I had kids. (Clearly, I wasn't good at this.)
3) I somehow overlooked the wisdom of the mothers. Neither of our mothers (Mike's or mine) had an easy time of potty-training despite being excellent teachers. They didn't criticize me; but they did routinely remind me that they had been where I was, with slow kids who weren't ready at the societal norm and especially, Mike's mom, would laugh about it. I should have thought, "Someday I will laugh" and "Eleven children have been potty-trained by these ladies with not one failure." I wanted it done. (See no. 1.)
4) I forgot that saving face in front of others whether in discipline or my children's accomplishments is not worth sacrificing our relationship and well-being for. My children are not pawns. I get to answer to God for the way I raise them. They deserve better than having to define my self-worth.
I am doing better with number 3. She has shown signs of readiness for a year now. At several points I've started down that road and she will pull back and "change her mind." Kyrie did the same thing and I took it as her personally punishment for my inadequacy. When she regressed, I was angry. And I marched around the house being frustrated for the failures instead of celebrating her successes. Some days Ev wears underwear and does great. She has had an accident here and there; mainly she will ask to wear diapers starting in the afternoon. She's tired. She doesn't want to be vigilant. I get that. But we celebrate success. Each and every time.
Kyrie has been her helpful encourager. This week I saw it all, like a story in contrasts. And I apologized to Kyrie. I told her I hadn't celebrated her successes enough and what a smart little girl she had been to figure it all out while I was focusing on potty-training her brother. She threw her arms around me and held me. For a Very Long Time.
2 comments:
ahh, the joys of motherhood. hang in there. it isn't perfect...have yours painted the walls with, um the other kind, yet? that's when the patience word isn't even printable.
Mine were all slow. I kept waiting and finally at age 4, they caught on. I had the hardest trouble with the last one. She took a long time and tried my patience too. Hang in there!
They were all slow walkers too! Stephen didn't walk until 21 months (and I was 6 months pregnant). I was so afraid that Aaron would come along and I'd still be carrying Stephen too! Deborah was my earliest at 14 months.
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