The terror that potty training can bring

Before I had children I couldn’t imagine much past the baby stage to be honest.  I just assumed nappies would be around forever expertly containing all the wee and poo and I wouldn’t have to think too much about it.

Of course I was wrong.

Before I knew what was happening along came potty training.

For my first a relatively simple process, starting on his third birthday and not really looking back.

He went, he got a chocolate chip. He went, he got a chocolate chip. He went, he got a chocolate chip.  He did a poo, he got an oreo. Sorted.

For my youngest?  Who has a stubborn streak like you wouldn’t believe and his eye on the prize?  A whole other kettle of fish.

He went.  He helps himself to a fistful of chocolate chips from the fridge before I’ve sprinted there to stop him.  Rinse and repeat.

Not only that, as we started so much earlier with him at two and a half with his desire to be a “big boy” we started before he was really ready.  I have lost count of the number of times I have had to scrape poo from pants.  Or mop up wee.  Or change his clothes.  Yet after we read through (seven million times) “Poo goes to Pooland” (and made up that wee formed all the rivers in Pooland) he started to get it.

There was light at the end of the tunnel, a lightbulb moment when he seemed to understand and get it.  No turning back.  Chocolate chip free for all.

HOWEVER.

Remember that stubborn streak?

When we are out, when he is at nursery, when he is with other people, he is an absolute angel.  Tells us when he needs to go and GOES.  People think he is an absolute darling angel.

But when we’re at home and there are a million other things he could be doing?

Nope.  If he doesn’t want to tell me.  He doesn’t.

He is a work in progress and we are down to night time nappies only (finally) and my trip down the baby aisle was drastically reduced to once a month to pick up pull ups.

All was well with the world.  Until…

Night Training Horrors

Yep.  After all of the horror getting them through the day dry, then comes night training.

First up to test my parenting skills on was my eldest.

I mean I know that night training is hormonal, that when you start seeing dry nappies in the morning it’s time to whip away the comfort of a nappy.  And we had dry nappies.

But still, it made me nervous.  And tired to think of washing the mountains of bedding, or even taking to Groupon to buy a whole load of new bedding, for we have the inevitable accidents.  Two sets of sheets just isn’t going to cut it. 

You have to be brave at these times, and so biting the bullet last summer we whipped away the night nappies for our eldest.

Nervewrackingly wondering if we were causing mild dehydration in our panic to not give him too much to drink before bed.  The suspense of will he go back to sleep after we haul him out of bed for a pre-going-to-bed wee.  Changing the sheets if accidents have happened.

And do you know what?  It’s not been as much of an ordeal that I thought it would be.  Sure my washing machine has gone on a little bit more frequently but it was pretty active to begin with having two small children who like to roll in dirt.  And yes there have been times where the last thing I want to do is change the bed but I have.  Potentially on one occasion a realisation that we need to make him drink more.

But overall not the worrying experience I thought it would be.

Ask me again when we do it with my youngest however and I’ll be telling you a different story…

 

 

The terror that potty training can bring

 

 

 

 

 

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