TOILET TRANSITIONS ‐ Motherhood and me, PART 3

Parenthood is like a double edged sword. The advantages and disadvantages are often the same. One classic example is the concept of disgust. It is lost on us. While life does begin in blood and gore, the subsequent months are spent in discussing spit ups, gases from both the ends and of course, the endproducts. The first milestone is while introducing solids to the infant when the colors, textures, fragrance and frequency are the most favored sub-topics. And I should say it's quite fascinating to wake up to rainbow colours in the diaper. 

Moving to the toilet is the first and biggest milestone in this journey. When this change occurs is determined by sociocultural factors. When my daughter Ira turned three months, the domestic help at my parents' suggested that I begin toilet training her. " when I asked her how a baby would understand ; she said, " say 'sssssss' and she will pee." When Ira was one, my aunt asked if she still was in diapers. "All my children were toilet trained at this age," she proudly declared. My mum and mother in law both affirmed the fact that children were taught the wonders of the toilet around the same age. But how?? "Sssssssss," is the ubiquitous answer.

The Netherlands and the rest of the west takes a more relaxed approach.  Possibly because their children seem obedient. The same procedure starts when the child is two and a half years old. The paraphernalia for this process include a plastic ikea potty, pull up trainers, potty calendar and lots of wet tissues. My Dutch acquaintances always say its pretty simple. "Put the potty in a corner and ask the child to go in it when they need to," they say. 

Ira was mildly curious of her lime green ikea potty and was accepting enough to go "sssssss" in it. The second number was difficult. So I decided to take it slowly.

 Sloooowly. Sloooooooooooowly.       

Meanwhile, I taught her theory.  We read books, watched YouTube potty videos, drew potty analogies. Did everything except what exactly it is to be used for.

"Perhaps she doesn't like this potty," said my mother. So, I bought another handy, colorful model that can be placed right on the toilet. Yet, no success.  My daughter still refused to woo the loo, even when she was losing control. Ira was almost three and was growing bigger. The only things that grew alongside were her diaper size and self control. Yes, she had learnt to hold it in.

My anxiety turned into desperation and full blown panic when she wouldn't unload herself sans diaper, even in the next new potty we bought. So I started to lure her through bribes. "Poo in the potty and i will take you to a park." When that didn't work, I bribed her with chocolates, ice cream and unlimited TV time. My screen loving toddler refused that too. I was now without options. So off we went to the doctor who referred us to a child physiotherapist. 

Our lovely Dutch summer was shadowed by visits to this clinic. We went every ten days and it was actually like going back to college. After a short lecture about not forcing the child to use the potty, I was taught to massage her abdomen with lavender oil. Next, we (I) were given homework and project work. we had to draw 💩,  even make it with clay and dried up bread. Decorate her potty. That was the final straw. So I decided to take things into my own hands. (By the way, we also did try to decorate the potty. Can you read our desperation?)  

I put her on the potty and pushed her to empty her bowls. We sprayed all kinds of fragrances to give her a pleasant atmosphere. I pleaded, yelled and threatened her. After many days of sweat(hers and mine) blood (only mine) and tears (both of ours), Ira started to cooperate. I gifted her with screen time, toys and candy. What worked? I have no idea. Or perhaps it was the giant lollypop. 

Habits die hard. Old and New. Because even now, after a year of being properly toilet trained,  my daughter's favorite song is: "Poo in the potty and I can eat a lolly."