Potty Training Boot Camp - Take 3

Lk has shown all the signs of being ready to be potty trained. He knows how to pull down his pants and how to use the potty, etc. He's been shown videos and read books and I have pleaded with him for months. This weekend I was determined, with 3 days home with them, to get both trained. I cleared out weekend for this event only. My plan was to take each one every 20 minutes and sit him on there so he could go.

I woke up full of positive energy on Saturday, all raring to go on this. I made a big deal about putting their big boy underwear on and how much more comfy that had to be than a soggy diaper. They couldn't have cared less though.

"Don't want to go on the potty," Lk declared.

"Why?" I pleaded.

"Don't wanna."

I was undaunted! I was determined. I was in way over my head. I'd even depleted the diaper supply and stocked up on pull-ups in anticipation. I envisioned bringing them to daycare this morning with the announcement that they were fully trained and out of diapers.

Either I'm an optimist or completelly delusional, and obviously it's the latter in this case.

I started with Lk, who is obedient 95% of the time, as opposed to Lm's statistic of about 40%. I brought him in every 20 minutes and sat him down on his little potty with great encouraging words, high praise, and a can-do attitude that, in retrospect, seems shallow and pithy at best, platitudinous and deranged at worst, considering the outcome.

We went in like clockwork 2 times and both times not a drop; I'd pull up his shorts and then 10 seconds later: "Mommy! Help." He was all wet. With a quickly growing laundry pile, I decided to go with the school of hard knocks and sit him on there until he did go, giving him all the milk, juice and water he desired. He had to break at some point, I reasoned. Once he went the first time, I reasoned, he'd get used to it. It now reminds me of the "shock and awe" phase of the Iraq invasion, when our administration thought a few bombs would shock our enemies into compliance and that would be that. I thought, a good 45 minutes on the pot would so rattle Lk, and the following praise for his compliance so please him that, soon he'd be begging to go potty and see the wisdom behind being diaper-free.

Well, it backfired about like you would expect. I was not about to back down this time. It became a battle of the wills--kind of like those final Survivor episodes where the last 3 contestants stand on a piece of wood for several hours for a million bucks and end up falling off out of sheer fatigue for the promise of a Krispy Kreme donut. In this case I've spend hundreds on diapers, not to mention having to field the question of: are they potty trained yet, all the damn time. I want to smack the next mom that tells me her kid was trained at 2.

In short, I sat on the bathroom floor next to him on his little potty for a solid 2 1/2 hours. Finally I brought a novel in to read while poor Lm watched DVDs on a nice sunny day. I knew he HAD to break at some point, with all that liquid in him, but he is a stubborn nut to crack! Lunchtime came and went. Mom took over for 5 minutes on guard while I prepared his noon meal. I heard her shout: "Therese!! A drop came out!" with as much excitement as we'd shown the day he was born.

I served him his lunch there on the pot and gave him another glass of milk and continued reading. He kept trying to cajole me and play games but I remained a stoic countence and ignored him while reading, then would vacillate to pleading and begging and promising cookies, cotton candy, ANYTHING if he would simply go in the potty!! I myself went twice during this time, all the while saying how nice and convenient it was not to have to wear a diaper.

In the end, he produced maybe a half inch of liquid in the bowl, as shown below. I was so thrilled I called my parents in and we all applauded and kissed him and I gave him a cookie and told him how proud Mommy was, etc.

My ass was asleep from that many hours on the floor, so we went outside to play. It's been a cold summer and I hated to squander this warm weekend--we could've been at the park or out having fun. I let Lk run around in the buff and told him to pee on the grass if he needed. But his bum was hot from the slide and he couldn't slide down so I brought him a pair of shorts.

WHAT DOES HE DO?? Soon as I got them on, he peed a full stream all over them, finally letting all that water and milk out. I didn't even say anything, I just changed him into a diaper. The wind was totally out of my sails. Clearly I had won a battle but lost the war.

Today I went to Wal-Mart and bought the gigantic 120 pack of diapers, the final act of defeat.