Yesterday we got invited to a pool party. At first I was enthused – something to entertain the kids
for hours and later makes their heads hit the pillows, sweet! – and then it struck me.
We would be swimming in a small, above-ground pool with newly diaper-free three year olds.
With a scrunched up face I declared, “I’m not going in that pool.” To which my husband replied, “Sophia
will be the only one not wearing a diaper.”
I reconsidered, “Oh well, I’m used to being immersed in her urine.”
Every day I find my hands wet from peeling off Sophia’s pee-soaked pants or the bottoms of my feet
soaked after stepping in the last spot she was playing at. Potty training my three-year-old has been more
challenging than any new job I’ve ever started, more frustrating than not fitting into my favorite jeans
and with far more clean up than the housebreaking of my dog required.
Nothing in early parenthood prepared me for the anger that washed over me when my daughter
purposefully avoided the potty to squat over the carpet in the closet. The “What to Expect…” book
didn’t say, “Keep mass amounts of paper towels on hand in order to sop up ‘accidents’ that weren’t
really ‘accidents’ which could have been avoided if your child was more compliant. Prepare to grit teeth
and experience an internal dialogue to put Eddie Murphy to shame.”
So, here I am stuck in the “wax on, wax off” stage wiping urine droplets from the floor and wondering
when this will be over. I know plenty of people who would try to reassure with, “Don’t worry, your child
won’t go to kindergarten in diapers.” But, it’s not reassuring, just annoying when my house smells like a
stadium urinal.
