Fumbling Toward Grace
The “No More Mommy Wars” series is back! And to start off our last week of the series, the lovely Louise is here sharing some of her thoughts on potty training and pressure.
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At two and a half, my daughter Elise is wild about princesses and their fancy feminine attire. She insists on wearing dresses daily, so it’s not too often that you’ll see her in just a shirt and pants. But when she does sport her casual clothing, there’s no doubt about it: she’s also sporting a nice fluffy diaper.
Before I became a mom, and during Elise’s younger months (she’s our first), I wondered about the roller-coaster potty-training trend that’s occurred over the past 50 years: “In 1962, an estimated 90 percent of children were out of diapers by age two and a half. By 1998, that number had plummeted to just 22 percent.” Surely, I thought, parents have just gotten too soft. That’s not going to happen in my family! We’ll just be firm and consistent and our kids will be out of diapers by two and a half, hopefully by two!
Then I, you know, actually mothered a two-and-a-half year old. My two-and-a-half-year-old. Who gets nervous when we put bubbles in the bathtub and when she hears the furnace kick on. Who requests reassurance every time she hears the washing machine running that “it can’t get you.” And who, for whatever reason, is occasionally willing to sit on the potty, but is too nervous to ever produce anything while doing so.
No, it’s not exactly how I wanted it to go. It does feel like a slap in the face when I meet children her age who have been trained since last summer, or children considerably younger than she is who have been using the potty regularly for months. And while, at 33 months, she’s certainly not unusually old to still be in diapers, I have no idea how long she’ll continue to rely on them. Meanwhile, everywhere I look (so it seems), another child her age is happily graduating to the world of big-kid underwear.
Several weeks ago, we had a playdate with four other children, all Elise’s age. Three of them are potty-trained. We were there for three hours, and Elise requested three separate diaper changes (she’s very aware of having gone, at any rate). Each time, I grew increasingly frustrated. What are the other moms thinking? I wondered. I assumed they would view her dependence on diapers as evidence of my inferior parenting, or — worse! — evidence of some immaturity on her part. (I’d rather someone think I was the worst mother in the world than have a less-than-stellar opinion of my children. Yes, I realize I’m setting myself up for disappointment.) I was so wrapped up in worrying about their plummeting opinion of us as people that I started to feel angry and ashamed by the time I was doing the last change..
And then Elise looked up at me, with a huge smile on her face, and said, “thank you, so much.” My heart melted, and I felt ridiculous. You know who gives two hoots whether my daughter is potty trained or not? Nobody. And even if the other moms were judge-judge-judging away (unlikely, they’re nice women), or just breathing silent sighs of relief that they aren’t me, how many hoots should I give? None. My daughter’s feelings on the matter are what is important, not theirs.
Lagging on potty training hasn’t really been a parenting decision in and of itself (if she’d been ready earlier, we’d certainly have gone ahead), just as it hasn’t resulted from a different approach from that of most other moms I know whose kids trained early (I suspect most of them would be in my same boat if their child had Elise’s disposition). One could argue that we’ve failed so far because we didn’t try elimination communication, or because we didn’t cloth diaper from the beginning (I switched Elise over a couple months ago), or because we “waited too long” to start training. But when I think about how potty training has gone — or hasn’t — so far, the salient parenting decision I see is my own willingness — or lack thereof — to acknowledge that I am a good mother who knows her child and responds to her individual needs.
Yes. I am a good mother. Why is it so hard to admit that most of the time? Of course, I make plenty of mistakes, but I don’t think that’s why. The truth is, when I’m imagining all of the judgmental thoughts that other moms must be thinking about me, I’m really just judging myself. I’m calling into question my ability to parent my own child, when the truth is, I know her. I get her. And I love her more than words could possibly describe, because she is my daughter.
That expression of gratitude — that pure, sweet, adorable thank-you offered without a hint of guile — that is what I need to remember as I reflect on my parenting. What was she thanking me for? Probably just for cleaning her up that one specific time. But layered behind that single inconvenient diaper change are the thousands that preceded it and the many that will follow. The assurance that Mommy loves her and will take care of her and will make it so she doesn’t have to sit around feeling “yucky.” The comfort of knowing that she won’t be rushed into something that makes her very nervous. The understanding that her parents love her and accept her just as she is.
The next time I’m with other parents whose children trained young, I hope that I am not apologetic about Elise’s diapers. I hope that I can simply say, “No, she isn’t potty trained. She isn’t ready yet,” and leave it at that.
Louise is the happy wife of her high school sweetheart and the lucky mother of Elise and 8-week-old Sean. Her blog, wonderful world of weez, has been woefully defunct since (suspiciously enough) right around when she became pregnant with Sean and Elise gave up on napping. She’s hoping to tip-toe back into the blogging world soon, probably typing one-handed.
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