Tonight I sat in the bathroom with Cee as she sat on her potty. We do this pretty much every day, although I’ll admit that my potty-training skills leave much to be desired over the weekends.
We sat and we waited. And waited. And waited. After 25 minutes, we packed it in.
The last time Cee used her potty successfully in my – and to my knowledge, anyone’s – presence was in September.
I don’t tell you this in the hopes that you – yeah, you – are in possession of the magic potty training bullet. Trust me, whatever you might suggest, we’ve tried. It all comes down to this: when she’s ready for it to happen, it will happen.
Therein lies the problem: I’m ready for it to happen.
As my daughter gets older and I along with her, I need to get good and cozy with the reality that things are not going to get any easier and that my timing is, well, often completely and utterly arbitrary. Today, my friend Kelly posted a funny take on some of the things about parenthood that she wishes were included in prenatal classes. Before our kids come, we freak out making sure that we are fully-versed on the latest swaddling techniques, but are we prepared to explain fractions to them?
Fractions (and Life in general) are coming, and they take no prisoners.
Yesterday, it was getting Cee on a sleep schedule. Today, it’s potty training. In the blink of an eye, it will be fractions. And then in two blinks of an eye, it will be helping her navigate heartbreak and moral dilemmas. Sex. Drugs. Problems that don’t have a clearly demarcated solution. This is what you’re in for when you sign up for the parenting gig.
And it’s never going to get any easier.
We all may as well strap in for the ride of our lives. Despite all the turmoil and pain and very literal poop that we’re going to have to wade through, this parenting gig is so very worth it. Out of all the other people on Earth, we have been placed in charge of guiding our children through life. There’s a profound joy to be found in the challenges, no matter the size.
So I’ll sit again with Cee in the bathroom tomorrow, and the day after that, and (probably) a bunch of days after that. Whether I knew it or not at the time, this is what I signed up for.
And that’s OK. Bring on the poop.