Potty training and the 7th circle of hell

Alert the press. I found it… the 7^th circle of hell. Did you know that it has been disguising itself behind the deceptively innocent name of “potty training”? 

My kids turn 4 in December and we have tried, on multiple occasions over the past year, to get the process started. We have always kept the bathroom door open, my husband and I, so the kids were accustomed to seeing us during our potty time. We assumed that this would facilitate the process. Clearly, assumptions can be dangerous. 

 We tried sitting on the potty three times a day, cheering enthusiastically when we were lucky enough to avoid screaming tantrums. We figured cooperation was to be noted, right? We even gave treats and stars (that accumulated for a treat) for sitting cooperatively. Months later, our kids loved sitting on the potty but no actual peeing in sight. 

Sigh. 

I am SO not a boot camp kind of person. Every transition for our kids has been just that, a transition. Bottles were slowly transitioned away, as was breastfeeding. We almost never introduce, take away or change an expectation of the kids quickly. Instead, we make a more natural process. In my experience, this has been successful and much less stressful for everyone involved.  So, when people spoke of their boot camp approaches to potty training, I dismissed this idea for my house. It wasn’t my style. I’d do it my way, thanks. 

And here we are. September. 3 ¾ years old. Still in diapers. Boot camp here we come. 

Last week, on a seemingly benevolent Monday, we started. I took the underwear out of the drawer after morning preschool and we started sitting on the potty. Every 20 minutes. Oh, and we set the clock by when the previous sitting BEGAN, not ended. Made me think of breastfeeding an infant and feeling like it just never stopped.  By the time you are done, it’s time to begin again. I could count the minutes on one hand that the kids were OFF the potty that day. I began by starting the clock when we finished, but the constant floods proved that system wrong. I pumped them with juice, probably too much juice actually. Perhaps that’s why they had 15 accidents combined by noon. I kid you not. I almost cried right in front of them.

Tuesday wasn’t much better. Actually it was worse. We had zero pees, tons of accidents and lots of tantrums. My daughter objected to taking her turn on the little potty when it was her brother’s turn for the big one. An hour later, her screaming ceased and my pounding head got some relief.  Cabin fever had officially struck. Wednesday was tolerable and we started to see some success. Thursday and Friday were uneventful. We increased our success but also became increasingly irritated. At everything. All three of us.  By Friday night I was in rare form and the kids were seriously pissed off. Poor daddy when he got home. Our house was like an emotional mine field. He never knew when he was going to step in the wrong place.

Saturday, my husband and I got away for the day, leaving the grandparents and kids at home. It was a much needed break and I even got to eat my food warm. Imagine that.

But it’s not over yet. My daughter’s progress is significantly more notable than my son’s and our house arrest may not be over yet.

And to think, I took my going to the bathroom for granted.

The political battle, uh, I meant debate...

Have I ever told you how much I miss my grandpa? He was a force to be reckoned with, a real pain in the butt sometimes. And I loved him dearly.

He used to call me, just to debate the politics and semantics of education.

Grandpa: Hey Lisa, have you heard about this phonics thing? Total baloney!

Me: Grandpa, do you even know what phonics is?

G: Yes. A way to read.

Me: I mean really know what it is. I mean, do you know how it works?

G: Uhm, no. How does it work?

Me: (insert silent snort here)

And I would tell him. Then he would ask me my opinion of phonics and I would give him my two cents. Or maybe even three or four cents. He would ask me follow up questions, really intelligent ones at that. Then we would chat about life. He’d tell me he loved me, I’d tell him the same and we’d hang up.

The fact of the matter is that he couldn’t have cared less about phonics. He just wanted to call, say hi, and debate a bit. Given that I am an educator, educational theory seemed like a good place to start. He was right. I bit every time. And loved it.

Did I mention how much I miss him?

I remember going down south to visit him and my grandma, with my family, when I was young. Every day, late afternoon/early evening, he would meet “the guys” at the pool. For approximately an hour they would sit around the pool and yell at each other. One would express an opinion and another would inform the first that he was wrong. And so it continued… It was hilarious. Then, abruptly, they would notice the time. Say their goodbyes and agree to meet the next day to do it all again.

I was on face book the other day and found a posting, one of those generic pictures you can forward with little effort. I sincerely wish I could remember the exact wording but it alluded to someone feeling annoyed by others wanting them to keep their political views quiet. Expressing those views, in her mind, was supposed to spark debate. And debate is a healthy thing.

I, personally, am someone who does not post according to my political beliefs. I don’t comment on the posts that I disagree with and I don’t forward the ones that I agree with. I have political opinions. Lots of them. Those of you that know me well could probably guess them all, as they are consistent with my overall personality.

I’ll tell you why I don’t mix face book and politics.

First, the standard forwards with political content rarely show respect for the other side. Second, the “debate” sparked from these forwards is rarely based in mutual respect. Few people agree with every decision made by the politician they support, but they don’t want to be forced into response by a comment that he/she is an idiot. Even if the person who posted the forward happens to believe it. I don’t object to an individual being adamantly pro life, but I DO object to being call a murderer for believing abortion needs to be kept legal. Do those that are against marriage equality enjoy being called antagonistic names by those who believe the rights should exist? I think not.  

And the “debates” that follow in the comment sections truly disturb me. The heart of a democracy is the ability to disagree, debate and remain civil. The total lack of civility in some of these comment threads can be truly upsetting. Is it debate or attack?

So, in light of the upcoming elections and the imminent mudslinging that is bound to occur, I sincerely hope that we will maintain our ability to be civil in our disagreements. That we will not define our friendships by those who agree with us on larger political issues.

I, for one, enjoy the diversity of my world. Don’t you?