My Girl Wants to Potty All The Time; Trouble Comes in Three’s - October 2005

Everyone warned me: “If you think the so-called ‘terrible twos’ are bad, just wait until 3!” I nodded, acknowledging their statements. But in my mind, I was thinking once two was over, and my daughter, Sara, could actually communicate to me in full sentences and stop eating crayons, she’d become a real person and life would begin to settle into some sense of order.

Yeah right. Now that Sara will be 3 in October, I know exactly what they’re talking about. It seemed as most of the last year was spent trying to keep her alive; now that she’s 3, I spend most of my time resisting the urge to strangle her. She’s lucky she’s so cute.

Like many 3-year-olds, everything needs to be on her terms -- or at least appear that it is. A typical conversation goes something like this:

Sara: “I’m hungry.”

Me: “What do you want to eat?”

Sara: “I don’t know.”

Me: “How about a peanut butter sandwich?”

Sara: “No!”

Me: “OK, how about…”
Sara: “No, I want a peanut butter sandwich.”

I’ve heard this exchange is similar when they’re teenagers.

Potty training is a whole other story. I started potty training her when she was 18 months old because that’s what certain experts and my parents said to start. She was only interested in playing with the toilet paper and putting the bowl insert from her potty on her head. A year later, as she noticed her preschool girlfriends were out of diapers, she was finally ready -- more or less.

But again, it’s all on her terms. At first, when we were out anywhere in public, I’d ask every 20 minutes, “Do you need to go potty?”

“No”

Twenty minutes later. “Do you need to go potty?”

“No.”

I’d put her on the potty anyway. We’d sit for 10-15 minutes while she flushed the toilet about 90 times, and tried to examine the contents of the little metal receptacle next to the toilet (ewww!). But she still didn’t go. I’d pull her pants back on, head out of the restroom.

Ten seconds later, I’d hear the plaintive whine: “Mommy….”

And of course, there’s now a puddle on the floor between her feet.

Now, the opposite happens: she wants to go potty every 10 minutes. I spend most of my waking hours in the bathroom, and I’ve become intimately familiar with the lavatories in Albertson’s, Target and the Brentwood Library and Community Center.

While in the bathroom, waiting for her to do her business, I wonder why I ever bothered to get an education and advance in my career if all my life has amounted to is wiping my child’s bottom and singing stupid songs about washing our hands.

Then she’ll put her little arms around me and say, “I love you, Mommy.”

And somehow it all magically melts away.