Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

Or so the saying goes. In my case, I was waiting for Aiden to be potty-trained. My reason for waiting (he's 3.5 years old), was not because I didn't feel he was ready, or because I felt the timing was wrong. No, I mostly waited to potty train my son because I really didn't know the best way to go about it, and to be honest - was more than a little terrified. While I wouldn't say that I was happy with the way things were going (I couldn't WAIT to have one less kid in diapers), I was what you might call comfortable with the state of things. We had our routine, and our routine involved diapers.

I asked Aiden from time to time if he wanted to go on the potty. I was almost always given a pert, "no thanks, I'm busy", or something to that effect. I could have pushed it, but...why? I figured he would go when he was ready, and as long as I kept telling myself that I didn't have to deal with it. According to my doctor, the average age of boys to be potty-trained is between 3.5 and 4, so why rush it?

He started going to preschool, where they required him to be "toilet training" at home, and they would work with him at school. Okay, fine. We're "toilet training". He would occasionally sit on the throne for me, a couple of times he even did his business, but he would never show more than a passing interest. And trust me, when my kid is not interested - he's NOT interested. When he puts his mind to something, you can't move him with a bulldozer. So anyway, I just kind of half-assed it for a while until his teacher told me that he goes regularly at school - every day he's there he uses the potty. Excuse me? He does WHAT? He refuses to do it at home, but at school it's all good?? That got me. The little stinker was playing me. I told myself, if he can do it at school, he can do it at home.

SO, I waited for a week when I had no plans to do anything or go anywhere. I started on a Sunday. I spread blankets and towels and sheets all over the living room. I covered the floor, the couch and anything I didn't want him to pee on. I stuck him in underwear and I told him the diapers were no more, and he HAD to go on the potty, which I put in the middle of the floor. My kid may be stubborn, but he gets at least half of that stubborness from me. I've had almost 30 years to hone my share of it into a lethal instrument, time to show him who's boss, and what it REALLY means to be stubborn. Sunday morning was horrible. He peed everywhere BUT the potty. I made him sit on it every 30 minutes, and he would pee as soon as he got off of it. I was more than a little frustrated, but I'll be damned if a 3 year-old is going to get the best of me. After lunch, the turn-around happened. He started using the potty. He went on it all afternoon, and didn't have another accident until around 7. I was encouraged - maybe he's getting the hang of it and by the end of the week we'll be doing well!!

He woke up Monday morning and I think the light bulb came on. He told me he needed to go and he sat down and went. Wow, I thought...progress! It got better. For the whole rest of the day, he not only used the potty - he used it by himself. He didn't even tell me when he had to go - he just went, and told me afterward so I could flush it. I was in shock. I'm still in shock. He was so proud of himself, and told me that he's a big boy now, he's going on the potty.

I don't know why I was so scared of attempting this. It only took him 2 days to figure it out. While I'm sure that we'll have our share of accidents along the way - he's got the hang of it. In the end, I'm glad I decided to wait, he probably could have done this sooner, but by waiting so long, he was more than ready and just took right to it. There was far less pain involved than I imagined.

I finally have my kid out of diapers for the most part, every parents dream. So why am I just a little bit sad? Could it be that I wasn't really scared of potty-training, I was scared of letting my little boy grow up? My firstborn, the baby I waited so long to have, is truly not a baby anymore. While I am excited and proud of his (and my) accomplishment, it comes a little bittersweet for me.