My three year old went number one and number two in her potty, by herself!!!
We are so proud of her.
But, honestly, I'm so proud of me.
When my son was her age, I was struggling with depression and anger. The thoughts of dealing with a child and potty training seemed like the biggest, dumbest, most complicated chore. I hated it.
I remember yelling. Yes, yelling at a child to learn to shit in a foreign object. PMDD (Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder) does not allow you to see beyond the hurdle. It keeps you stuck in the toughness of the situation without words of kindness or looks of love. It was something my son could not do. Of course he could. But at the moment, in those days, hours, weeks and months, it felt like something he could not comprehend. My little guy. Always so smart. I wish I could go back to those days. See myself and have compassion for us both. To hold you both and weep for whom you all used to be. Forever changed, impacted by my actions. But with so much love to overlook the sadness and the past. We can all go back to a moment of sheer shit. And hopefully look at oneself now and see the growth.
With the grace of knowing it is never too late to ask for help. Any type of help.
So, it was a rough experience for both of us.
I dreaded a similar experience with my daughter.
The biggest change I made was asking for help. I did not want to start this journey alone. I am a busy mom, and I have routines. I have to take away the pressure to fulfill a schedule and tend to her first. My husband helps when he is home, encouraging her to potty, and sitting with her when she needs us.
Or looking away when she doesn't.
At first she would cry, and scream. The battle was just getting her to want to sit on a toilet. We bought her a Minnie Mouse Potty, and she loved it, but not enough to sit on it. So we would give her small toys, books or technology (our word for tablets, or phones). We also bribed her with her favorite gummies. She saw us buy them at the market. We got home and she wanted gummies, we told her she'd only get gummies if she sat on the potty and tried to use it. It worked!
This time, medication, counseling, and freaking breathing helped tremendously. My husband helped more than before. He encouraged her to try, and she was happy to try. I never raised my voice. I was not unkind. We all told her she could, as a family unit, and she did.
Proud AF,
Kathy