I am the reason we haven’t potty trained. Those words sting more than a little as they filter around in my head. It’s my fault we still buy pull-ups. It’s my fault 2 year old Gracie still doesn’t use the potty with anything close to consistency. Me, Myself, and I are to blame. Ouch.
The truth is I’m afraid to commit to potty training. I’m genuinely nervous about the whole prospect. So, for over a year we have “potty trained.” Gracie knows how to use the potty. On very rare occasions she will tell me she needs to go. Some times I manage to consistently take her potty for a week or two in a row. But then we flop again. I make another excuse. And we stop.
The problem is diapers are comfortable. They’re neat — mess free, for the most part. I can change a pull-up in the car. I can change one on the bed. Or I can change one standing in the bathroom, either at home or in a store.
But the potty… Well, that’s a whole new deal. With the potty comes accidents in big girl pants. Accidents mean dropping everything to clean the floor/couch/car seat/whatever and change all of baby girl’s clothes. With the potty comes managing a toddler in a public bathroom. (I don’t even get to go in public bathrooms! With a toddler AND, right now, a little brother who neither stands on his own, nor does he still ride in an infant seat) Where would brother go while Gracie potties in Wal-mart?! The potty means emergency stops on car trips (read “on the way to church” since that is over an hour away.) And so, at 29 months old we are still not potty trained, or even making good progress that direction.
I guess it sounds silly to be afraid of something that will ultimately be so freeing. I could just let her go and not worry about her diaper, if she were potty trained. It’s crazy that I make excuses to put off something so helpful. But I do. I make all sorts of excuses — we’re about to move, we just moved, we’ll be traveling soon, we just got back from a trip, she’s tired, I’m tired… you get the point. I suppose it seems like potty training is like sentencing myself to never getting to leave the house — ever — until Gracie has fully grasped the potty, timing when to go, and all the rest.
Maybe this is the week we trade in the pull-ups for panties, put a stool next to the potty, and just dive in head first. Maybe.