I can’t teach my child anything.

I read a book about potty training your 2 year old in 5 days. It promised rainbows, sunshine, and glorious poops in toilets. The author emphasized the importance of potty training at the 2nd birthday, otherwise you could face major problems; they might need help using the facilities in kindergarten, how awful! 

I was pregnant, cloth diapering, hot, and tired. I got it in my head that Lincoln had to be fully potty trained before I gave birth to his sister. “If you can avoid two in diapers, do it”, I heard from many people. 

I took his diaper off. I had the potty at the ready. An hour went by. Then two, then four, then six… he hadn’t peed or pooped and was growing increasingly angry. When his body could not hold onto its waste any longer, he began to cry, scream really. He was terrified. I praised him, told him “Good job!”. But he was horrified. We put a diaper back on and went to bed. 

Day two rolled around and we did it again, following the step by step guide from that book who’s author I do not know personally, nor does my child. An author that does not know me personally, nor my child. 

Day two was worse. By the end, I cried with him. Lincoln did not want to sit on the potty, he did not want his diaper off, he would hold it until he physically could not anymore. He was in pain. 

I threw the book away. 

For some reason, adults think that learning is linear. That we must learn by a series of steps and guidelines. But the truth is, learning is a loop de loop of trials, successes and failures. 

Our common core education system pushes the linear thought, and we wonder why our children are so full of anxiety and depression. What if we let them learn the way that works best for them, on their terms? What if we let them decide how to live their life, instead of doing it all for them?

The me that tried to force potty training had been told that education happens through adult facilitation. I thought I knew my child better than he knew himself. 

Lincoln is quite timid. He dips his toe in many times before he eases himself into the water; going to the ankle, then maybe next time to the calf. You get the picture. 

He was not ready for a giant, ice cold, hard, bowl half full of water to loudly whisk these things that came out of his body away for unknown reasons. He knew mommy and daddy would pee and poop in the toilet, he knew what we did in the bathroom. But he was not ready. He felt comfortable doing his business the way he had done his entire existence. 

I hadn’t thought how scary it must be to sit on a toilet as a small child. I put myself in his shoes, with his deep emotions, and realized that I had made a huge mistake. 

The first time he willingly sat on his own little potty, I was in the other room. I had caught him from the corner of my eye. There is something innately private about excreting our waste, maybe even a little shameful. 

He didn’t know I saw him sit on his little potty but he told me after the fact, beaming with pride. That was 6 months after his second birthday.

He just turned three and he still doesn’t use the potty every day. He will go 5 or 6 days in a row only wearing a pull up at night, not even at nap time. Then for a few days he feels more comfortable in a pull up. 

He will only sit on the big toilet at home and every now and then at Granny and Papaws. He refuses to pee on trees, in public restrooms, or literally anywhere that is not home. He will hold it. For hours. 

In the moment, that first time I sat him on the little potty, I felt a pressure to make my kid elite, advanced. The pediatrician gives us “milestones” and it feels like the opposite of a speed limit sign. It feels as though children should be ahead of milestones, over 50% in weight, height, and head size, above the others. 

If I felt that pressure, as a mom, for my child to be “more than”, can you imagine how Lincoln felt? Can you imagine how children feel always being pushed to be “more than”?

Again, no wonder why our youth have so much anxiety and depression. We aren’t even willing to entertain the idea of meeting them where they are. We want to push them to be the best that they can be. Are we, as adults, even the best that we can be?! I’ll answer for you, NO! WE ARE NOT! 

I have begun to discard most milestone talk. My child is perfect right where he is. He knows when he is ready to move on to the next step. He knows when he would like to revisit a learned skill. He knows how to learn; I don’t have to teach him. 

My new approach to “learning” is simple: living. We do the dishes together. We color pictures together. We read together. 

One day, on his very own, he grabbed his step stool, rolled up his sleeves, took the sponge out of the sink and began to wash the dishes. I figured I would have to rewash them, but they were clean! He washed the dishes and learned how to do it by watching me. In his own time he took the initiative to do it himself. 

He colors with the “blue” crayon, repeating the word as he moves his hand over the page. 

When we go to the library he plays with the toys a little then goes to look for a book or two before returning to the toys, repeating the process until it’s time to leave. He checks out his books on his own, scanning the card then each book. On the way home he reads one of the books. 

I think if I can just stay out of his way, he will meet every “milestone” on his own.