Potty-Trained!
I’m almost afraid to say it so definitely, but he’s been wearing his underwear for almost two weeks now, and done without a diaper for #2 the last two days, with no accidents. He even stays dry at night. Tonight he said, “I want to get rid of my Car Movie and Spiderman diapers and just wear underwear!”
I think my brain had started to believe it would never actually happen, that I would never actually say those words. It has just taken so long. People would tell me, “Oh, one day it will just click,” or, “They’re all potty-trained by kindergarten.” First of all, the latter statement isn’t true, as there are a lot of special needs kids who aren’t potty-trained by kindergarten, including kids on the autism spectrum, and the more extreme the case, the longer it takes.
But the idea of it just clicking — that’s exactly what seems to have happened. It just took a bit longer than it does for most kids. Although many kids today seem not to be potty-trained by age three or three-and-a- half. So we’re actually not that far behind. But once he got closer to age four, I wasn’t getting those reassuring comments from people as often, instead just getting an “Oh…” if I said he was still in diapers. You know the “Oh…” said with a mixture of pity and accusation. Or maybe a little dismay and curiosity.
I’m not sure what specifically to attribute it to, but one night, more than two months after he’d had that diarrhea episode, Tristan said he wanted to wear his underwear. Now, there is one thing I did differently that day: For the last couple of months, I’d been having Tristan go potty every couple of hours, trying to keep his diapers dry. But that day, I was feeling tired and lazy, and I guess kind of defeated. I thought, This isn’t going anywhere, so what difference does it make if I keep asking him to go to the potty? So for the entire afternoon, I didn’t bother to ask him to go, and he never attempted to go on his own. When Andy got home, close to eight o’clock at night, I asked him to change Tristan’s diaper. Andy said it was soaked. Tristan never expressed to me that he wanted his diaper changed, but for some reason after Andy changed him, he asked to wear his underwear. And that was it. Was he maybe finally affected by the feel of a soaked diaper? Even though he didn’t say anything about it? I can’t know for sure, but that’s the only thing I did differently that day — I got lazy and didn’t bother to make him go to the potty!
But there’s one thing I know for sure: he had to decide for himself. There was nothing anyone could do to convince him otherwise. I think he was truly worried about the lack of control he felt, and when suddenly he felt like he could control it, he was confident enough to go cold-turkey. He is so proud of himself now.
This opens up a whole new world of possibilities. I’m already thinking about summer camp for next year! But I’m still holding on to those diapers for now… I know many kids experience regression after a new baby comes into the family. I’m thinking he might just start wetting himself at night, which is not all that unusual. It’s amazing how much of this is psychological. Like after the diarrhea episode, he didn’t just refuse to wear the underwear, but he was wetting his diaper more often during the day, and waking up with wet diapers where he had previously been waking up dry. So his bladder was actually physically affected by the psychological trauma of the diarrhea event. Fascinating.
I can’t believe what progress he’s made over the last three months, and specifically over this past month. I can handle the little things so much better now, seeing how he is really growing up, giving up two signs of babyhood — his paci and diapers — in a matter of weeks. Some mothers express nostalgia and sadness over their children’s loss of babyhood. I don’t feel that way at all. Maybe I would if it had happened when he was two or three, but right now I’m just elated and relieved and thrilled for him. I love looking at my four-year-old, and seeing him as a little boy now.
Although I have to confess, one day when Andy had Tristan out of the house, I went to retrieve that pacifier, still hidden in my underwear drawer, and throw it in the trash. I stared at the chewed-up, orange paci. There was a time when I was always buying new pacis, but this particular one he’d had for a while, since he was using it much more sparingly. I stood over the garbage can with it — and I couldn’t do it. I was mortified. What’s wrong with me? I thought. I put it back in my underwear drawer, justifying my decision by the thought that Tristan might say he wants to give it to his baby brother when he’s born (which he has expressed), so maybe I should keep it just in case. But I know that’s just an excuse. Something’s making me hold on to that thing. It was so much a part of him for so long. If you would have told me a few months ago I’d have a hard time throwing away his last pacifier once he gave it up, I’d have laughed in your face. I guess this is just one of the hazards of motherhood: completely illogical sentimentality.
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