"Faith Lifts" Devotionals: Toilet Training Woes

Nothing makes me feel like a Mother Inferior more than this fact: we are still buying "Pull-ups" for our youngest, who just turned four. :(

We went through toilet-training six years ago with our oldest son, and barely made it out alive. Hopefully, he's forgotten most of it, or maybe he's saving up to unload it all (no pun intended) at therapy someday.

But for some insane reason, I believed the lie that "it's easier with the second one." I told myself that surely, with an older sibling to show him the way, our toddler would cheerfully potty-train himself by the time he was three.

What's the saying? "When men make plans, God laughs." So true.

It's not just that we're tired of paying money for glorified diapers--it's also that I cringe when I send him to preschool with extra ones. I feel like saying, "We're really trying...he's just not getting it!"

In fact, we've tried several techniques, all to no avail:

· the encouragement technique: "You can do it! We believe in you!"

· the peer-pressure technique: "Doesn't everyone else in your class wear underwear?"

· the shaming technique: "Only babies go in their diaper."

· and finally, the bribe technique: "If you go number two in the potty, we'll buy you ANYTHING you want from the store." (By the way, the price limit of said reward has escalated in recent months. He could ask for a live pony now and I might say yes!)

Nothing has worked. And before you tell me that I should buy one of those "potty training in a day" books, I've been there, done that, and it STILL ain't happening.

I told a friend the other day that I'm not Catholic, but this sure seems like something akin to Purgatory--or at least, one of Dante’s circles of Hades. According to my extensive (okay, two-minute) Wikipedia research, there is actually a level where people are covered in human, well, never mind.

The other day, I sat in the bathroom across from our little man, doing my best to be encouraging. I smiled, gently cajoled, and prayed. The boy seemed to really try, and I felt the slightest glimmer of hope."You can do it!" I said. Then I got so desperate for victory that I started chanting, "Push it out, push it out, w-a-a-a-a-y out!"

I'm on the edge here, people.

To make matters worse, our littlest is in a mess-making stage about everything else, too. I can walk out of a room that's rather straight and walk back ONE MINUTE LATER to find that Hurricane Jackson has blown through. I know it's just a stage, but I'm glad he's awfully cute. And affectionate. And that he says "Mommy, you're pretty" a LOT. Otherwise, he might spend all his waking moments in time-out.

Or I might run screaming out the door. You know, that is starting to sound like a pretty good idea. I'll leave, and let Dad handle the potty challenges. If I kept score as to who’s changed the most dirty diapers, he'd be waaaay on the losing side. Maybe I should "cash in" all that mommy-duty capital now.

(Okay, I’m back now. I had a temporary break with reality.)

Before you write me notes about my mothering skills--or the fact that there are bigger problems in the world than a strong-willed preschooler--please hear this: I know in the big scheme of things, potty training is not a world-shattering event. I also know that one day, the hubby and I will look back on this time in our lives with nostalgia, saying "why did they have to grow up so fast?"

Still, it's hard. And it feels like it will never be over.

That’s why it’s so nice to know that I’m not in the war-zone alone.

Today, I got an email which included a link to an article called "God Sees" by my friend and fellow writer, Mary DeMuth. In it, she wrote this: 'When we attempt to potty-train our three-year-old for the umpteenth time, having given up on M & Ms, begging, and tears, God sees...He sees what we've hidden and is especially fond of rewarding what we've done for Him secretly (Matthew 6:4)."

I ask You, is God's timing perfect, or what? God used Mary’s words to encourage me that even the smallest, way-out-of-the-spotlight details of my life matter to Him. Actually, because I know God's kingdom is an upside-down kind, I’m one hundred percent positive that the unsung, trudge-up-the-hill moments of parenthood (or work, ministry, marriage, etc.) are truly the most important moments of all.

Recently, I heard Ron Hall and Denver Moore, who told the story of unlikely friendship in the bestseller Same Kind of Different as Me, speak at a fundraiser. Mr. Moore, a former violent drifter, made quite an impression on the audience—and on me. “It’s the things you does for nothin’ that mean everything,” he stated. “After all, if you gets paid down here, you ain’t gonna get your reward upstairs.”

God sees. I’ll try to remember that the next time I’m drawn into a inglorious battle of wills with a stubborn munchkin.