The Rockwood Files: Mother bids farewell to diaper duty

By Gwen Rockwood, newspaper columnist and mama of 3

A few weeks ago, I had a day unlike any other day I’ve had in more than seven and a half years. What made it so different? It was DIAPER-FREE!

Yes, diaper-free – as in no diapers, no pull-ups, no wipes and no scented bags to contain the poopy mess. I did not once lay anyone down on the changing table and hoist her up by the ankles so I could inspect her behind. Not once! Oh, what a beautiful day.

My third – and quite possibly my last – child has learned to use the potty. I’d almost given up on the potty-training mission. Though Kate learned to stay dry quickly, there was something about doing “the big job” on the potty that unnerved her. So she did what a lot of kids in this situation do – she went on a poop strike.

I decided to wait her out the first couple of days. I figured if I fed her enough apples and veggies, she’d have no choice but to deal with her potty phobia and then we’d finally be over that hurdle.

Having done my time in the potty-training trenches with her older brothers, I knew that one successful poop in the potty usually leads to another and another. It’s getting a kid to do it the first time that can be tricky. But on Day 3 of the poop strike, I started getting nervous. If she held out much longer, I knew we’d run into a constipation complication that could really derail our efforts. So I finally diapered my daughter in hopes she’d relax enough to do her business. Five minutes after the familiar diaper was on, she did.

At this point, I had a decision to make. I could either accept defeat, retreat and resume the mission a few months down the road, or I could find a way to negotiate with the 2-year-old who held the keys to diaper freedom. I knew that – developmentally speaking – Kate was ready for this. She was showing all the signs that she could do it. But being able to do something and wanting to do it are two entirely different things. I had to find a way to make her want it.

Later that day I went to Wal-Mart to shop for groceries and to decide whether I was buying diapers or buying underwear. I was truly torn. Part of me wanted to fight the good fight and the other part of me just didn’t have the energy to follow her around constantly watching for “gotta go” signs and then begging her to do it. As much as she loves me, she wasn’t going to do it just to make me happy. But then I had a thought. Maybe, just maybe, she’d do it for her beloved Elmo.

So I cruised over to the toy department and found an Elmo “See ‘n Say” toy that talks and sings. When I got home and unloaded the bags, I put that toy on top of the refrigerator where everyone could see it but couldn’t reach it. The boys noticed it right away and so did Katie. I casually told them I’d be getting the toy down and we’d all play with it as soon as Kate pooped in the potty. No big deal. No pressure. I said it matter-of-factly and went on about my business.

Now and then I’d walk past the fridge and press the button that makes the toy talk. Then I’d talk directly to Elmo, telling him not to worry because we’d get him down and play with him as soon as Kate felt ready to go to the potty. She never even whined or begged for the toy because she knew the terms of the deal. She knew I wouldn’t bring that Elmo down until she successfully flushed something else down.

The next morning, I noticed her doing the tell-tale, uncomfortable-looking “potty dance” we mothers know so well. I asked her if she wanted to go to the potty, and she answered by sprinting to the bathroom. She climbed up on her potty seat and then sent me away so she could concentrate. A few moments later, I walked back by the bathroom door and saw her standing there, staring down at her accomplishment. “I did it! I pooped in the potty!” she yelled, pointing at the evidence. And I don’t know which event made her happier – realizing that she had officially become a “big girl,” or getting to rescue the new Elmo toy from the top of the refrigerator. Either way, our mission was accomplished.

So here we are weeks later – diaper-free – and I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. It has been more than seven years since I left the house without a fully-stocked diaper bag, so I constantly feel like I’m forgetting something. Of course, it’s still early and any mom with a newly potty-trained toddler keeps a few “just in case” items stashed in her purse. But so far, she’s doing great.

And as much as I adored the baby years and still miss them sometimes, I have to say that a day without diapers definitely has its advantages.

Want to read previous installments of The Rockwood Files? Click here!

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