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.