Potty Boot Camp: Week 1

I’ve suspected for awhile that major intervention would be required for my sweet, daydreaming 3 1/2 year old to kick the diaper habit. We had tried a couple times to get her out of diapers (and you can read about an earlier attempt here). But nothing stuck.

So last Monday morning, Potty Boot Camp began. When she awoke, I changed her out of her diaper, announced that the diapers and pull-ups were bye-bye, and invited her to pick out a pair of undies from a stash that I had set up in the downstairs half bath the night before.

I then also removed my 18 month old’s diaper. Yes, I had planned to potty train them both, keeping them confined to the kitchen and half bath as they “learned from their accidents,” as the potty training blogs informed me.

I was armed with stacks of books, puzzles, art supplies, treats, and a sticker chart for my middle child. After five successes, she would get a special prize.

Oh, and the online “potty training community” also strongly recommended a “potty training partner.”

Check! I had already prepped an excellent one.

So we were off! We read our books together. We did puzzles. My PT Partner encouraged her sisters by talking up the treats, stickers and prizes. She also fetched clean undies, wipes, and paper towels for me.

By noon, I had cleaned up Number 2 twice, and copious amounts of Number 1. My 18 month old started fighting my 3 1/2 year old for the princess potty chair I had parked in the middle of the kitchen floor. While my 3 1/2 year old took her time sitting there, my 18 month old would get impatient, scramble off my lap, exclaim to her sister, “Poop! Potty! Treat!!!” and try to shove her off.

Then when I put my 3 1/2 year old on the toilet, her little sister would barrel to the bowl and flush it over and over. “Mommy!!” my middle child would wail. “She’s flushing me!!”

And my five year old, discouraged, started whining that no one was getting any stickers.

I realized that when I had conceived this brilliant plan of a two-fer, I was suffering from temporary insanity. The diaper went back on my youngest, and I explained to my five year old that we were going to focus all our attention on my 3 1/2 year old. Because there was no turning back…we were not, not, NOT going back to diapers with her.

Throughout the week, we did everything I could think of to reinforce her new reality.

On Tuesday, when I asked her where the poop and potty go, she replied without hesitation, “In my pull-up.” So my PT Partner and I made up new words to one of their favorite bedtime songs. To the tune of “Where, oh, where has my little dog gone?” we sang “Where, oh, where does the potty belong? Where, oh, where should it be? It goes in the toilet or potty chair–that is where it should be!” My 3 1/2 year old loved this jingle. We sang it over and over, often adding additional verses inspired by current circumstances: “Does the potty go on my bed? No, no, no, no, no, no! Does the potty go on the steps? No, no, no, no, no, no!”

On Wednesday, we brought out the superhero capes, and she transformed into Super Potty Princess.

My friend also came over with more treats for the girls, beer for me, and a delicious lunch. Her visit enabled me to take a shower and actually wash my hair.

That also was about the time that I realized my 18 month old, still disgruntled that she had been ousted from Potty Boot Camp, had learned how to open the half bath door. She would get in there and try to wreak havoc in the drawers,

(Busted!)

Or raid the panty box, pull on a pair over her clothes and announce “All set!!”

On Thursday, we traced the girls on my giant roll of utility paper. I made sure to include the panties.

On Friday, her aunt showed her You-Tube videos about going on the toilet, which included a singing, dancing monkey, and a British tot who ditched the “nappies.” And that evening, my daughter, a.k.a. “Pongo,” earned a special prize.

Finally, it was Saturday. We had a party that afternoon. Before we left, I put on a pull-up over my daughter’s undies, an online tip I had gleaned.

All three girls had a blast at the party. And, yes, my daughter wet her undies and pull-up despite several trips to the bathroom. I changed her, putting on another pull up over her fresh pair of panties, and they continued playing. We didn’t leave until almost 8:00.

We were 10 minutes into the drive when my five year old announced, “Mom! Dad! I need to go potty!”

Rats! I was so focused on my trainee that I had forgotten to make sure her older sister used the bathroom before we left.

“Well, can you hold it till we get home? Maybe for a small treat?”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

“But let us know if it becomes urgent.”

“What does ‘urgent’ mean?”

“It means it’s an emergency!” my husband responded.

Three miles later: “It’s an emergency!!!!”

We screeched into a Speedway. My daughter clearly was in distress, on the verge of wetting her pants. As I freed her from her car seat, my middle child piped up, “I have to go potty!” I knew there wasn’t time to unbuckle her and get her inside, too. And my husband couldn’t take her inside with our 18 month old snoozing in the van.

“Sorry, sweetheart!” I said as I hustled her older sister out the van door. “I’ll be back quick!”

Inside the gas station, the single-stall women’s room was occupied. “We’re using the men’s!” I called to the cashier as we dashed into the men’s room.

She made it.

Back at the van, I asked my middle daughter, “Do you need to go potty?” She ignored the query, and studied a Dora lift-the-flap book.

Oh, well, that ship has sailed, my husband and I figured. She had the pull-up so there wouldn’t be any mess.

But when we got home–surprise, surprise–she was dry! Her aunt took her to the bathroom and she put the potty where it belonged.

We still have accidents, but thanks to a team effort, lots of successes, too. This girl has the stickers to prove it.