Potty breaks are wasted on the young.
July 12th, 2005
“You have to go to the bathroom, honey.” I say.
We have been through this before. “You haven’t gone to the bathroom since very early this morning, and it’s already past lunchtime, and you need to go pee before your nap.”
“But I don’t have to go to the bathroom,” says Sophie.
“Yes. You do.”
“No. I don’t.” The lower lip juts out, just a bit. The heels dig in. Bring it on, Ma.
Why must it be like this? Why the resistance? When will it cease? Youth is wasted on the young. Potty breaks are wasted on the young. The bathroom is a respite, an oasis of serenity, the ultimate in Private Time. I would kiss anyone who commanded me, GO TO THE BATHROOM RIGHT NOW, AND DON’T COME OUT UNTIL SOMETHING COMES OUT. I would weep with joy, I would obediently sit on the pot, I would think about cranberry storm doors and striped sunshades for the porch and bright red woodstoves and sugar-free iced vanilla lattes while I stared at my chipped toenails and examined my arm freckles and wondered why I got the legs I did, and then I would pee, pee, pee like the wind. And I would enjoy every second, without feeling like I had to be anywhere else to rescue someone from floating face down in the dog’s water bowl. This kid has no idea how good she has it, no idea.
“Sophie, I mean it,” I say. “Go to the bathroom right now. You have pee in there, I know you do, and you have to let it out. If you don’t, I’ll . . . I’ll . . . I’ll DO SOMETHING. You will force Mommy to DO SOMETHING.”
I am losing my edge. We both know it. I used to be much better at this.
She leans against the wall, tracing a wallpaper flower with her finger. “You don’t UNDERSTAND,” she says.
“YOU don’t understand. If you don’t pee when you’re supposed to, terrible things will happen.” Think, think. “Dr. Griffin said so.”
I immediately regret dragging Sophie’s pediatrician into this. Dr. Griffin is a supremely rational soul. She would not endorse this, an underslept lunatic threatening her young patients by invoking her name as some sort of vengeful lesser pee-demon.
But it works, briefly.
“What terrible things?” It is part curiosity, part challenge.
Crap.
I really need to read up on this. A new bumper sticker affixes itself to my brain: WWDSD: WHAT WOULD DR. SEARS DO? “It’s just . . . look, Soph, it’s just not good for your private parts, okay?”
“It IS good for my private parts, because I don’t have to GO.”
She strips me, yet again, of the last shreds of the day’s sanity.
“No, it is NOT good, because if you don’t pee enough, your pee will turn very yellow.”
“Pee is yellow.” Exasperation creeps across her face: Duh. She waits for my rebuttal.
Focus, focus. “Well, it will get YELLOWER. And THICK. And it will BURN. You don’t want it to burn, trust me.”
“It won’t burn.”
“It WILL burn. It will burn, and your private parts will get SICK and DISEASED and nobody—nobody—wants that.”
Now I am threatening my daughter with gonorrhea. How I have arrived at this point, I cannot tell you. For once, I am relieved that David is not home.
She sighs, considering her private parts being overtaken by flaming, burning diseases. Then she shrugs. And sits on the toilet.
I close the door and give her some peace. A mother must do what a mother must do. I have saved her from a UTI. Her end justifies my Meanies.
I hear flushing. She exits the bathroom, looking pleased. I beam lovingly, proudly.
“Nothing had to come out,” she says.
You can lead a child to potty, but you cannot, apparently, make her pee.
Entry Filed under: Uncategorized, Because I said so. (Parenting), Tattletales. (Mouths of babes)
12 Comments
1. Lisa | July 12th, 2005 at 3:55 pm
You just made diaper changing a little more bearable
2. Simon | July 12th, 2005 at 5:33 pm
hey Jennifer (never Jenny),
I followed a link from ‘Reflections in d minor’, and find myself hooked on you in a very platonic way.
Since I find it rather impolite to lurk about without at least saying ‘hi’ once, I thought I’d do so.
So, um, Hi!
Nice to find a well-written parenting sort of themed site. Since I have a 14 month-old son I’ve been casually seeking out other like-minded individuals.
See ya around…
Simon
3. John | July 12th, 2005 at 6:22 pm
You know that you’ve really lost it when you make her sit on the potty for an hour, screaming the whole time, throwing a gigantic fit, until she finally relents and pees. Not a proud moment in my parenting… and I still have no idea whether it was the right thing to do. Just one of the many joys of having a Very Willful child.
4. R J Keefe | July 12th, 2005 at 8:50 pm
Nobody seriously underslept could write this well. Bravo.
Memo to Sophie: Just you wait, little girl. You’ll read this when you’re twenty and wish so hard that you’d been obedient!
Memo to Jenn: Slip Sophie some B-complex vitamins, and she how she takes the “incipience” of yellow.
Really, what great fun! Sorry it’s so gruesome to live through, but you really do redeem it!
5. the Mater | July 12th, 2005 at 11:27 pm
So, Shakespeare was right all along:
“To pee or not to pee … that is the question.”
The answer, however, doesn’t seem so obvious when you’re dealing with a four-year old! Breathe deeply, daughter … this, too, shall piss … oh pardon me … pass, the word is pass!
6. Alex | July 13th, 2005 at 10:39 am
My mother did this to me when I was 25 (!) years old, in the lobby of the theater where we had gone to see Tyne Daly in “Gypsy.”
“Did you pee this morning?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“No, you didn’t. You should pee more.”
People turned and stared. It was almost as embarrassing as the time she yelled, “TOM CRUISE DOESN’T HAVE ANY SEMEN” in the lobby of the theatre where we were seeing Vanessa Redgrave in some Ibsen play. (What was it with her and theater lobbies?)
“It’s not healthy,” she said, loudly. (Her hearing was going.) “Even if you don’t have to pee, you should try.”
To which I could only reply, “MOM!”
She was right, though. I hadn’t peed. And I needed to. And I wasn’t about to do so in a crowded theater rest room at intermission. No way, man.
My point is, simply: You will continue to pee fight for a long while, and though you may indeed be right, you will not necessarily win.
7. Jenn | July 13th, 2005 at 11:22 pm
Okay, I am crying over “TOM CRUISE DOESN’T HAVE ANY SEMEN.” Something about that sentence, combined with mentions of Tyne Daly and Ibsen, just set me off. You’re all cracking me up, thank you. Nice to hear that many of you are/were/have Willful Children. Perhaps there is hope.
8. geogirl | July 14th, 2005 at 7:18 am
“this, too, shall piss … oh pardon me … pass, the word is pass! ”
LOL!!! Well Jenn, now I know where you got it from.
I’m going to move far away from my keyboard and laugh hysterically for a few minutes!!!
9. Jenn | July 14th, 2005 at 8:38 am
My mom used the word ‘piss’. The times, how they are a-changin’.
10. the Mater | July 14th, 2005 at 12:50 pm
I thought if my young’un could use the “other P word”, I’d just take a chance and be bold myself!
11. Gwenda | July 15th, 2005 at 1:39 pm
Hey there, Jenn!
i can hardly wait to have similar conversations with my little one. what fun!
12. Amy | July 18th, 2005 at 8:28 pm
Hi Jenn, LOVE IT! If it makes you feel any better, I use the “threat” of our pediatrician all the time. (He is a wonderful person, by the way, but he does wield those needles.) “If you don’t put on sunscreen you will get a sunburn and then you’ll have to go see Dr Hyde”, ” If you don’t drink enough water you’ll get dehydrated and have to go see Dr. Hyde”, “If you are that grumpy it means you are tired and you seem to be tired a lot, maybe I should take you to Dr. Hyde”, the list goes on. Of course, it means that I have to spend the two weeks leading up to any appointments singing Dr. Hyde’s praises and avoiding any “threats”. Oh, and, at least yours goes on the potty…