How do you potty train a two-year-old? Have Your six-year-old do it!: Tips from the BEST mother or WORST mother in the world - you decide!

I often hear how do you do it: work, school, family?  In truth I really try not to think about it.  Normally I don’t think about how much work it takes to juggle all the balls.  At the risk of sounding like Nike, I just do it!

So naturally something has to give.  Lately that something has been potty training my son.  I knew from the moment the boy was born he would be my challenge.  He gave me “the look”.  Seriously, while moments old he scrunched up his nose and looked at me with much attitude, as if to communicate, “How dare you disturb my comfort?”

And every day since he has had that ATTITUDE!  We are fortunate that Nate is perfectly healthy, he is also extremely intelligent.  For example, when he turned one-year-old he refused to walk, even though he was absolutely physically able to do so. No matter the amount of coaxing Nate would simply sit where he was and demand to be picked up.

Who could resist this face?

I had friends yell at me, “Don’t pick him up! Make him walk.” 

Sure he would.  They quickly learned Nate is as stubborn as he is cute and determined to have his way.  He’d cock his head to the side in a manner that spoke volumes.  Often the statement being, “Why should I walk when you’re going to carry me? DUH!” 

Then one August day, two months after he turned one and exactly 24 hours after his Grandfather (my husband’s father) had come to visit, Nate was walking.   He was walking his Grandfather around the backyard.

In the moment I observed this phenomenon my suspicions were confirmed…….NATE is a genius. 

Now Nate is two-years-old, going on three and has FINALLY agreed to participate in the potty training experience.  When I say agree, I mean it.  For the better part of his second year he absolutely refused to sit near the potty, much less on it.  I bought him every type of potty chair on the market; the singing Royal throne, the caricatures, the potty seats for the big toilette.  He simply refused to be bothered with the experience.

Prior to Nate, I thought I was a “Good” mother.  Ariana was perfect; I potty trained her around two-years-old on a road trip to Kentucky.  When we left San Diego, she was wearing pull-ups and still had the occasional accident.  When we arrived in Kentucky she refused to have an accident in her pull-up, even if it meant braving 29 degree weather in Oklahoma City rather than relieving herself in the car.  I couldn’t have been prouder of my daughter and had to give myself credit for having the patience to work with her while driving cross-country.  There is NO WAY Nate would have cooperated.

In truth, all my illusions of being a fantastic mother flew out the door with this child.  Clearly I am not as gifted as I thought.  Or am I?  

A few weeks ago, on a Saturday, I returned home from school and was met with Ariana’s excited news.  “Mom, Nate went pee-pee on the potty eight times!” 

            Ariana managed to not only get her brother on the potty chair she also had him completely out of his pull-ups and into big-boy Scooby-Doo underwear with NO accidents.  REALLY!   I was simply amazed.  Of course I praised both of them and had to see this miracle with my own eyes.   To think, Nate actually consented to being trained how on earth had she managed it? 

            Then Mommy guilt began to set in.  I was the one that should have gotten him on the potty.  Any hope of Daddy doing it of course was not even a consideration.  This is no dig at my husband, but after he works full time in the evenings and is finishing up his bachelor studies during the day, while attending to the kids on my days at school; I just wouldn’t dream of throwing the full weight of potty training on his shoulders as well.  But of course I felt as if I should have been the one to conquer this feat.

            Yet I couldn’t help but be amused, once again, at Ariana’s persistence, patience and maturity.   She started with getting Nate to sit on the seat, and then every Saturday she would conduct some new class to build off the Saturday before.   Usually she and Nate climb out of bed around 7 am and venture into my bathroom while I am waking up.  I quietly listen to their huddled discussions in the bathroom; last Saturday, she gave a lesson on when it is appropriate to sit and when he should stand.  She can’t wait for him to master “The Aim” technique. 

            In the midst of wallowing in my self-pity for being omitted from the most important lesson of my son’s two-years, my friends have helped me to see an alternate reality.  One that is fitting for my fragile state; my son IS a genius, because his mother IS a genius!  Why bother with potty training?  Just train your daughter so well that she can train everyone else!   Perhaps I’m not the WORST mother in the world; I might even be in the top ten….O.K. maybe a little too far.   But either way you look at, the job is getting done.

~ Working Mother