After soaking and cleaning everything that was near the baby, our needs-to-be-potty-trained toddler gave us a full day of hide-and-seek poop. Jack hates the idea of potty training and, coupled with his general dislike of having his diaper changed, he’s taken up the practice of Poop and Dodge. Since he prefers to sit around in his own doing, once he feels a poop coming on, he’ll scurry away and play in another room so we don’t smell it. The stewing fecal matter, combined with the chaffing of his diaper, has resulted in welts on his inner thighs. When we change his diaper, the welts get poop in them making diaper changes very painful. That pain exacerbates his desire to dodge diaper changes and the gross, vicious cycle continues.
After a long day of Poop and Dodge I had a brilliant idea. Let’s just get rid of all diapers, training pants, etc. and put him in underwear. Let’s rip the diaper band aid off and have him see what it feels like to have accidents. Let’s get the potty train rolling!
This was a dumb idea. Apparently when you pee on a diaper rash, it hurts a lot. Jack’s choking “Stop! You’re hurting me!” sobs and crocodile tears rip my heart out. I try to remain calm, but I can’t help feel, yet again, like I am failing Motherhood 101.
At this point I have one of those “parenting sucks” moments.
Of course a huge part of the trauma of potty training is my fault. I’ve put it off. First there was the “we just moved” excuse. Then there was the “new baby” excuse. Then it was “let’s wait until summer”. But really, I hate the idea of potty training. Hate it. I could say that it’s because it’s a rite of passage that I’m not quite ready to go through, that I don’t want to let go of my little baby boy, or that I am afraid of doing it wrong and damaging my child, all of which have some sliver of truth to it, but the real reason I’ve put off potty training is I don’t want to deal with the mess.
After three years of diaper changes I am inured to poop in a diaper, but I shudder at the idea of mess splattering onto grocery store aisles, of ruined clothes and furniture and the inevitable frustration that always comes with introducing anything new to Jack.
Potty training is the first major rite of passage that will send my son out into the world beyond me. It is a huge hurdle that, once we are over, will propel Jack that much further away from me. This is both a welcomed and sad thing. Like most transitions, we will have to pass through the gross to get to the good. Transformation is murky, muddy and generally gross. In yoga, the lotus blossom is used to illustrate the process of transformation. The lotus, a beautiful flower that blossoms on top of stagnant water, plants its roots in the mud below. In order for it to grow, it must first root down into the mud and then grow up through the muck to blossom into radiance.
I have no delusions that Jack’s mastering of toileting will be a radiant experience, but I do know that passing through this grim rite of passage will move him closer to blossoming into an independent being so I gotta suck it up.
I look up from the bath I am drawing and see John. We lock eyes and I say, “I loathe the idea of potty training. I don’t want to do it. All the mess, ugh, I’m sorry but it grosses me out.”
“I know, I know, me too.”
I sigh, “God, this day.”
He lifts up his hand and high fives me, saying “Solidarity man. Welcome to the Poop and Pee club. Woo club P! Rock it! Rock it with the poop! Rock it with the Pee! Woo club P!”
He walks away, swinging his hips and singing, “Rock it club P! Woo!”
Jack runs bare bummed after his dad singing “Woo! Club me! Rock it to Me! 21, Four, Zero, Eight!”
