Berit Warren is potty training.
As we go on this new adventure I find myself saying phrases I never thought I would.
“Don’t put your hands in the toilet.”
“If you tee-tee I’ll literally give you anything in this house.”
“We don’t tee-tee on Doc McStuffins. She’s our friend!”
I’ve never been good with patience and this is a new lesson that I’m learning because every single time that sweet little girl sits on that potty I’ve realized she has absolutely no intentions of actually using it.
She will potty for everyone but me.
She does wonderfully at school; going every single time her teacher asks her to and gets a gold star on her pick up sheet.
She will even go for the strangers at the church nursery!
But Mommy? No way.
The other day I was so tired. We had driven back from Georgia on Sunday and the first day back to school was nothing short of chaotic. I had to organize papers, prepare for finals, go to meetings, and didn’t end up leaving the school until well after dark.
I picked Nana up from daycare and drove home, barely holding my head up once I got in the door.
Then the potty training began. We try to go every 30 minutes so I can match up with what they’re doing at daycare so every half hour my phone buzzed and I ask the question.
“Do you need to potty?”
Most of the time I was told no but we went anyway and more often than not she had gone in her pull-up.
I firmly believe changing a pull-up is way worse than changing a diaper.
No longer is she lying on her changing mat calm and still, but now she’s standing up with hands on my shoulders as I try to wrestle each foot into the holes and then pull it up over her booty.
The last time we went before her daddy got home I left her there. I sat on the countertop and graded English essays, most of which made me cringe and feel like a failure.
Why don’t they get this when I’ve taught and retaught and made colorful charts and games and word searches and videos and, and, and, …
And I’m a terrible teacher.
Which is probably why my child can’t even potty.
All of these thoughts were completely rational, right?
I got through three papers while she stayed on that potty until I finally heard, “Yay! Good job, Nana!”
Y’all, girlfriend pottied.
I was so proud! We did a dance and sang and got some candy.
In a moment where I felt like a failure, we celebrated. We celebrated something I never really thought I’d celebrate. It was a small victory but at the same time another huge victory in the book of Nana.
That night, as she went off to sleep listening to her Praise Baby album I could hear her singing to herself.
“God loves me so, God loves me so, God loves me so, He’s so good to me.”
Yes ma’am, sweet girl. God loves you so.
And just like I celebrate something that might not be that big of a deal, God celebrates the “not that big of a deal” victories for all of His children.
So, as I continue to work on my patience in the potty adventures, I’m going to do my best to remember that God loves me so, He celebrates my victories, and Skittles can be used as bribes and there is no shame in that.
Courtney Warren is a contributing writer with The Bolivar Commercial. She may be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.