Potty Training Shcmotty Training

There are many difficult parts of the machine involved in potty training the child. There are several integral bits you need to gather in order to simply begin. First there is the potty itself, special diapers, find a location, and start gearing up the child for the change between diapers and potties.

We have never actively tried to potty train Gertrude because she’s still rather young. When we moved into the new house, we dusted off the training potty and put it in the bathroom so she could become familiar with it. The way it is designed, it doubles as a stool (no pun intended) so she could use it to wash her hands at the sink as well.

Within a month of the potty’s display, Gertrude wanted to try it out. She asked what it was, we explained and she decided to give it a try before bath time. Right out of the gate she scored. She emptied her bladder into the receptacle. There was much cheering and brouhaha. At this point she was maybe 18 months old. We were pretty darn impressed.

Now, just short of two years old, she has her own set of pull-ups, which we use rarely, and she has begun holding “it”. She has successfully deposited all appropriate materials into the potty successfully at least twice a piece (no pun intended). We’re all very proud.

Keep in mind, though, we never set out to potty train her. She has undertaken this endeavor on her own.

When she is at “MeeMee’s” (grandma) she goes on the big potty twice a day. On Sunday, while we were playing, she suddenly jumped up and ran to the bathroom, took off her pants and diaper and climbed up on the potty and gave it the old school try.

I don’t know what it means when your child is potty training herself. I’m sure it’s just another step in her greater goal of emulating her sister.

She even puts herself to bed and demands fresh sheets every three days (thankfully she hasn’t started asking for a specific thread count).

I’m really rather proud of her for her ambition and desire to conquer her body, but I’m also saddened that she’s moving so quickly to become an older kid.

When I ask her “who’s Daddy’s baby” she answers, “I not a baby, I a kid!” We’re working on verbs, by the way.

She learns and grows from her experiences unlike any other kid I’ve ever met. The other day we were hanging lights in our window for Halloween. We were checking the string and she touched one of the bare light bulbs. It was hot and it hurt her finger. We were worried that if we hung the lights she would touch them again.

“Gertrude, are you going to touch these lights?”

“No,” she answered aghast, “they hot. They hurt!”

This kid is so full of life and excitement. She goes headlong into every adventure that life throws at her, whether it’s potty training or helping daddy fix things. And she’s so damn smart for a nearly two year old. I’m constantly amazed. Sigh.

But she seems to constantly want to be older than she is. She speaks with more clarity and with better diction than some four year olds. Her motor development is dwarfing other kids her age. And she’s so sensitive and compassionate towards other people. It’s frightening. If you cough, she asks you if you’re okay. And she pats you on your back and pats your cheek until you answer.

As I sit and look at her sleeping in her bed at night (which she can climb in and out of, but never does . . . she knows she is capable, but she knows she isn’t supposed to), I see her as a toddler, pre-pubescent, teenager, adult and gone from the house and out on her own.

It’s amazing how after barely two years with her, and a good 18 to 20 to go with her, I’m already bracing myself for my sweet little baby to leave me. Someday she won’t be Daddy’s Little Girl any more. I’ll be the old man and she’ll be out there forging her own life. And judging by her personality and her sense of adventure at this point, there will be no slowing down that train.

Gertrude is a force to be reckoned with. She has an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and experience. And though she’s only almost two, I’m already beginning to miss the baby she is right now. Because with each and every day I see that she’s a different child than the day before.

I’m constantly amazed by her growth. And constantly mourning another day that has passed me by. Another day that has become but a memory. True, they are fantastic and wonderful days and I log each and every moment in my head. But I’ll never get them back. She’s one day closer to starting school, going to college, getting married and taking over the world.

One of the things about parenting that they forget to tell you in every book is how hard the unspoken things are. Wiping butts, noses, and vomit are easy. I can catch up on sleep some other time and the beets in the baby’s ear came out pretty easily. And the carpet can always be replaced.

But the job is bittersweet. Your entire job as a parent is to do exactly what you don’t want to do. You are charged with raising the child, training her to be a contributing member of society and a good human being. Your job is to push her out when the time comes.

Parenting is knowing when you pull the child close to your chest and when you let them wander a few steps away from you.

You revel in their successes, you brag about them. But somewhere in your heart, you dread the next success because you know what it means. That your baby is slowly growing up and moving toward an independent state. Everything that you want for your child is what you secretly don’t want.

I’m seeing it at an advanced stage with Matilda and am preparing myself for the next stage with Gertrude. I’m thrilled with every successful thing they do. I brag about them constantly. (For example, Matilda is the best reader in the entire third grade. Light years ahead of every other kid in her Advanced Reading program.)

But there’s that part in my heart that knows I’m going to have to let go. Ten, fifteen, twenty years to go seems like a short time.

But you blink and your diapered little girl is suddenly the best reader in third grade. You blink again and she’s crying because her boyfriend broke up with her. Blink again and she’s holding your first grand child.

Someone once said that the “secret of life is enjoying the passage of time”. That no matter what you do, you should enjoy the ride.

And I do, I really do. The dips are scary, but they are fun.

But what do you do when you suddenly look around you and realize that the people who got on the ride with you are all changing and moving on to their own rides? Be they fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, spouses or children, there comes a point when you realize that everyone is getting on their own roller coaster.

And you have to choose. Either you can stay on your own coaster or you hop into the back car of someone else’s coaster and see where it takes you.

Gert and Matilda are in the front car. I guess I’m just along for the ride.