I've Created a Monster!

I have to start this entry in confession mode. The beginning of the tale does not paint me in a good light. And I am not proud of what I did. Furthermore, as it was happening, I was painfully aware that my motives were all wrong. Yet, in the end... well, let's just say I subscribe (at least for today) to the theory that the ends justify the means.

I visited a friend and watched as her much smaller toddler happily climbed on her potty and did her best to "tinkle". I felt a fresh wave of frustration with my utter inability to potty train my 3 year-old. Forget the training part, I couldn't even get her near the potty. The mere mention of underwear was enough to send her into paroxysms of panic and hysteria. So when I got home and Hannah once again noticed her foaming soap in the cupboard (awaiting the glorious day she decided to use a potty in any way shape or form), I again reminded her that all she had to do was sit on the potty. She didn't even have to pull her pants down. Heck, I was willing to capitulate if she even looked at the potty! She, of course, coyly refused. I sat her 1 year-old brother on the potty to show her how easy it was. She still refused. And because I was convinced she was refusing just to spite me, I insisted she at least try it, like her brother. She started to cry. And here's where it starts to get ugly, so brace yourself...

I sat down, blocking the door, and told her we weren't leaving the bathroom until she sat on the potty. Jacob sat on it again. I sat on it. We smiled. Wasn't this fun? She kept crying and refusing in a manner that was growing increasingly irritating to me. What was this? A toilet phobia? I finally lifted her up and carried her to the potty, while she clung to me in terror. As I attempted to lower her onto the seat, she practically ripped my shirt she was holding it so tight. Her legs were wrapped around mine and you would have thought I was lowering her into a pit of vipers by the way she was acting. I had no sympathy. I was envisioning buying shares of Depends since apparently my daughter was physically incapable of being in any kind of proximity to a toilet. I forced her down and pinned her to the seat. No easy feat. And, obviously, not a pretty sight. Please see my disclaimer in the first paragraph.

I let go of her and she sprung from the toilet like it had burned her. I pretended nothing unusual had happened. "Good," I said, "Now, you get to use your soap." I lifted her whimpering and defeated soul onto the counter and pumped some foaming purple soap into her hands. She was intrigued. No, she was converted. Immediately after rinsing it off, she said she wanted to do it again. "Do what?" I asked. "Use the potty," she replied. What!!??!!????

And she spent the rest of the night sitting on the potty, sometimes getting off to wash her hands, but then happily climbing right back on. And she even took her pants off. She was so proud of herself. She got everything organized in the bathroom to her liking (some books, a diaper on stand-by, etc.). She came out for dinner, but then announced that she "had to go the bathroom" again. She probably spent a total of 3 hours on the toilet. Never peed once, but still...

It's now her favourite place. She even asked me to "get out of here now" so she could have some privacy. We've gone from one extreme to the other. So yes, I practically tortured my child - but, in doing so, I forced her to face her fear... or something like that. All I know is that she wore a pull-up willingly and actually resisted a diaper at bedtime. And she sat on the potty. Forever. But that's so much better than never!