Potty Training: A Quick Trip to Lunacy

     On Wednesday I had a doctor's appointment first thing in the morning.  I woke Clara up earlier than usual to get her ready.  She was warm and fleecy and snuggly, and she burrowed her head down into my shoulder, her hair like soft wire mesh.
     We were already running a little late.
     As I was changing her diaper, I said encouragingly,"You know, someday soon, you're not going to need diapers anymore.  You're going to wear big girl panties."
     Potty training induces about the same level of anxiety in me as having a picnic in the middle of the freeway.  There are as many potty training guides out there as fruit flies, but every kid is different.  The moms in the play groups we're in are all starting to potty train, and I think, what if we're the last ones?
     Oh the horror.  The horror of the four-year-old child in diapers.
     Every pediatrician I've ever consulted with is very firm about this: in your average, healthy child, potty training has nothing to do with intelligence, and is not in any way connected to their success later in life.  Kids potty train when they are ready.
     Don't you dare bring status into this, I tell myself, as I surreptitiously ask the undie-wearing toddlers I know how old they are.
     I think most of my anxiety actually stems from the fact that Clara very, very much wants to go.  Her idea of a good time is spending a half hour or so sitting on the potty and pretending to go, or making her stuffed animals sit on the potty.  She is at a stage where she seems to understand intellectually why people sit on the potty and what goes into the potty, but she doesn't have the muscle awareness or control yet.
     "Yes. Potty!" Clara said this morning when I mentioned the big-girl panties. She suddenly sat bolt upright from her changing pad, giving me the first inkling that perhaps it was a mistake to mention big girl panties when we were on such a tight schedule.
     "Uh, do you want to sit on the potty?" I asked, glancing at the time on my phone. Yes, she did.  She thundered down the hall, naked as a newborn kangaroo, and plopped down on her potty.  And there she stayed for the next ten minutes, despite all my entreaties that we had to hurry.
     "Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle," she said.
     The potty remained dry.
     I finally got her dressed (I told her if she let me put on her diaper, she could play at her friend Molly's house later).  Just as we were headed out the door, she grabbed at the crotch of her diaper under her baby Guess patchwork jeans and said, "Oh! Mess! Poop!"
     "Nai wannu sit on potty," she said, as I whipped her dirty diaper off and rolled it up tight.
      I wanted to say, "Lay down NOW so I can put your dang diaper on and not be late for the doctor who charges even if I miss the appointment!"
     But what if, as inconvenient as it was, this were a pivotal moment in her march toward bathroom autonomy?
     "Ok, you may sit on the potty briefly," I said.
     "Sirt off."
     "Honey, you don't need your shirt off to go potty."
     "Nai wannu sirt OFF."
     I took it off, exasperated.
     "Mommy sits big potty."
     "I don't have to go...Ok, alright, maybe a little, if it's helpful...Ok, let's be quick.  You want to play with Molly later, don't you?"
     "Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle...Mommy sirt off."
     "Honey, people don't take all their clothes off to use the potty.  In fact, they usually don't take any clothes off.  That's just if they're taking baths or showers."
     Wilbur chose that moment to shamble through the bathroom door and come sniff around Clara's legs.  She giggled.
     "Git!" I yelled as his nose ventured delicately into the waste basket where I'd recently deposited her dirty diaper.
      It wasn't until she'd spent a few moments pretending to read Mean Jean the Recess Queen on the potty, stuffed her jeans into the dry potty basin, and let Buzz Lightyear sit on the potty and wash his hands, that I finally put my foot down.
     "Lay down," I thundered, wielding a fresh diaper. "Now! No more potty-sitting! We gotta go!!"