Confessions of a Reluctant Toilet Trainer

My toddlers wear diapers. They are almost three. Although I don't wear diapers (mostly), I feel insecure about this fact because I guess, according to some, they are kind of old for diapers and I am kind of responsible for making a change in the status quo. They are the last diaper wearers in their toddler class. When other moms ask me how it's going, I quake inside. And then, I totally lie.

Yeah, they just aren't that interested (they find nothing more interesting than the potty).
They aren't staying dry for long stretches (untrue).
I'm waiting for the warm weather, I heard it's easier in the summer (just an excuse, I have no idea what to do in the summer any more than the winter).

Want to know a secret? Lean close. I haven't even tried. The thought of letting them run around my house peeing and pooping willy nilly causes my butt cheeks to clench in horror. In case you haven't met me or read the post on paint, I'm very type A, bordering on AA. Mess bothers me. Poop on my floors bothers me. Changing diapers does not bother me. I love diapers. They catch the junk, keep it relatively contained and provide a convenient disposal mechanism. I do feel stressed about our constant contribution to the local landfill (larger than necessary) and our monetary contribution to our local Costco (yikes!), but not stressed enough.

People seem a little judgy on this issue (ahem, not talking about you mom, unless you are judging me and then, ahem MOM!). I get regaled a lot with success stories and false-feeling sympathy. I don't get it, honestly. No one has to change the diapers but me and I'm pro-diaper. I support pampers - ah, I mean Costco knock-off pampers - with campaign contributions.

The other day, a mom told me with great excitement that she had just trained her son using the three day method. I hadn't heard of it because I avoid all information about toilet training via the very mature method of sticking my fingers in my ears and saying 'lalalalalalalalala' really loudly. Her little boy is many months, bordering on years, younger than Ess and Gee. For a few guilt induced minutes, she had me interested. It's time, I thought. I'm a smart lady, I can do this.

Then, she said she asked him if he had to go every five minutes for a week. Interest waned significantly. Next, she said proudly that he now gets up three times a night because he has to pee in the potty. Interest came to a screeching train wreck-like halt. Having only recently attained 80% sleep through the night success with Cue and returned to the land of the at-least six-hours-of-sleep-a-night living, um, no, thank you. They can wear diapers until they are ten, pass the Costco coupons.

I hope I don't sound like I am anti early toilet training, or like I am judging anyone who accomplishes this miracle milestone quickly and before, let's say, riding a bicycle. Far from it. I am jealous. Green. I wish someone like that would come to my house and hold my hand because the truth is that I am afraid. Of many many things, not just a little poop on the floor.

For instance, once I tell them that they need to put it in the toilet, I assume I need to give them free access to said toilet. Which means extending their current domain to many more rooms of my house, including rooms containing vessels in which they could drown. It means encouraging them to take their pants off and I have worked so very hard at convincing them that pants are necessary parts of our ensemble at all times. It means commitment to the cause. It means patience and loving explanations in the face of accidents, no yelling, no griping, no crying (by me). It means finding the strength not to enter into power struggles over poo poo with my daughter of the iron will.

I actually bought an Elmo toilet a few months ago. Their unending fascination with it annoyed me and I hid it in a closet.

Everyone I talk to and every book and every article I read agree that they (the toddlers) need to be ready. I could almost guarantee you that they are. I AM NOT READY. Whew! I feel better. I have a dream that they will just saunter up to me one day before they turn seven (four?) and tell me that they've got the toilet thing locked, thanks, no need for diapers, mom, you out of touch, silly, diaper-pushing, poo poo head. It could happen. Tell me it could happen?