Convincing My Child To Pee In A Bucket
Like many things in my life, it was harder than I wanted it to be
Part of this anonymous space has always been reserved for talking about all aspects of my life, which has and continues to be very cathartic. And judging by the feedback I get from my tales, it’s been very useful for people to learn from me what not to do.
80% of people I polled on Instagram said they wanted to read about my potty training experience so who am I to refuse? To the people who haven’t been around that long, here’s a little insight into my life with a toddler. I’ll be back soon with more food chat.
“Mummy I done a poo. It’s a curly one”
A phrase so welcome and one I never thought I’d ever hear, I almost cried. Especially after trying to potty train my strong willed, bright, capable and very ready (imo) child for almost eight months.
A friend once told me I should sleep train my child as soon as possible and that I was making a rod for my own back by letting her sleep on the boob. That same friend that said potty training is best done at 2 years and 3 months and it should only take three days because that’s what it was like for her.
I tried.
It did not work.
It’s taken the best part of a year for my child to accept the potty is a permanent feature in our lives, so in my friend’s eyes I’ve likely failed at parenthood.
I’ve made the mistake of listening to other people multiple times in my child’s short life and have often regretted not trusting my own instincts. The ‘mum guilt’ I experience because of this is my constant state of being.
Sarah Ockwell-Smith, parenting guru and writer of The Gentle Potty Training Book brilliantly guides us through the process and says that until children are developmentally and physiologically ready it will be a much harder process, so waiting until they are is imperative. Plus children are wearing nappies until much later nowadays and because the technology in them is so advanced, children can feel dry even when that saturated bum bag is almost dragging on the floor.
Crucially, and what I held on to too tightly was Sarah deterring us from using an incentive or reward. Her reasoning made sense, if we’re rewarding children for ‘producing’ the child may only produce for an incentive and not because they genuinely need to relieve themselves. Therefore rewards are counter productive. And in rewarding them for producing, we are in turn inadvertently punishing them when they don’t. Jeez, I didn’t want to traumatise my kid so as I was unable to relate to the parents I’d come across along the way who had incentives as back up (that I was jealous of), I held on to that nugget of information to carry me through my journey.
Here’s what that looked like (spoiler alert – not good)…
I took to Instagram (again) in August 2022 to ask whether or not people who had experience with kids thought it was a wise idea to potty train before my holiday two weeks later. Most people said no and that I should enjoy my holiday and do it after. Unable to understand their reasoning I ignored their advice, thought it would be easy and proceeded to have three unnecessarily stressful days at home in a heat wave trying unsuccessfully to get my daughter to learn a new skill.
Despite introducing her to the potty a few weeks before, she wouldn’t go near it. She loved being naked but was very suspicious of this small white bucket and even more so of the one with a penguin on it. So we put stickers on them. I let her choose her own pants. It didn’t make any difference.
For the whole time we were holed up at home she understandably had a lot of accidents and would try in vain to run away from the unpredictable fountain of yellow that kept following her around the place. But she would not go near the potty. Then out of nowhere what developed was the greatest bladder control of anyone I’ve ever met. I could ply her with water and ice lollies and would be amazed, if slightly concerned, at how long she could ignore her body’s cues.
Then all hell would break loose and she’d get upset. I had no issues with the accidents, but she did.
By day three I’d managed to get her to sit on the potty but only with me sitting behind her cuddling her to keep her in position while we sat and watched another episode of Blippi. She had a wee on it but my celebratory enthusiasm startled her whilst simultaneously being horrified at the sensation. She leapt up and screamed at me whilst peeing everywhere. The stress manifesting itself in my body wasn’t accounted for and I wondered what I’d got myself into. I gave her the hug we both needed.
By day four we were desperate to get out. We went to the playground and this little girl ran around maniacally like she’d just been released from prison. And so did I. She was up in everyone’s business and I spent much of my time apologising to people when she insisted on pushing every single kid on the swings, with force and enthusiasm, whether they liked it or not. I’d put her in pants to see what would happen and she didn’t have an accident so I thought we were winning. But when we got home we were playing in the garden, she became distressed as she needed a poo. She’d been withholding all day after using her night-time nappy to open her bowels at bedtime. Nature took its course earlier than anticipated which traumatised her so much that as I took to the garden with the jet wash I decided to knock potty training on the head for a bit.
We went on holiday with a large stash of nappies, and other than some very intense two-year-old tantrums and one big and smelly accident in her swimming costume, we had a great time.
I held on to my potty training anxiety and vowed to try again at some point in the very near future but enjoyed not thinking about it for a while.
The one thing that alleviated my anxiety hugely was nursery saying that they would help. The weight taken off my shoulders was immediate. Crucially though they said she wasn’t ready. They said that for months and months and months. But I thought otherwise. She’d been following me in to the bathroom since she could crawl. We’ve always talked about toilet habits and what happens in our bodies and she could tell me when she’d done a poo in her nappy. She’d been consistently ‘hiding’ and telling me to go away when she was eliminating. She still needed help getting dressed but so do I sometimes and I’m an adult. I was convinced she was ready but as she’s so strong willed she was refusing, so I respected that, albeit anxiously.
During this time I tried to convince myself I wasn’t affected by many of the other children her age and some younger strutting around in pants like they’d been in them for years. Dropping and squatting on their travel potties, pee being flung in the nearest bush afterwards. It was a world I didn’t really want to be part of but I also WANTED TO BE PART OF IT. I kept telling myself children do things in their own time and while I absoloutely believe it, I still frustratingly panicked that she’d be in nappies forever. I tried again here and there over the next while. Each time it was agony.
Every single person I bored with this subject comforted me but it didn’t help. Having ADHD doesn’t help either because I spend my life breathing my way through the overwhelm I constantly endure and avoid letting her see it.
Nursery said she still wasn’t ready.
So I backed off and went on Instagram, which was aptly timed as Sarah Ockwell Smith posted this.
I realised in that moment my child is in the o.o1%. She would rather have me continue to wipe her bum indefinitely than learn how to shit in a bucket when she doesn’t have to.
A few weeks later after summoning up the courage to go again, incentives were introduced and the rest is (sort of) history.
I bought a third book for her where the characters have a star chart. The previous two books, while fun, the characters didn’t get gifts. I also bought a star chart, and some marshmallows like her best friend had to keep things interesting.
After taking the pressure off completely but leaving the potty lying around and being introduced to the marshmallows, one day she said ‘mummy I need my potty. And my book.’
She sat and read for a bit, had a wee, ate some mini marshmallows, stuck a star on the chart and went about her business.
I cried tears of joy.
She did the same the next day.
The following day she was completely over it. So I took the pressure off again, knowing I had the goods and she had the knowhow.
We went like this for a few weeks. No pressure, but always the offer of an incentive and having a visual aid of the star chart helped keep her interested and she was genuinely excited to fill it. That was until it didn’t so I upped the stakes and offered to buy her a hamster if she completed the chart. She had a poo in a nappy at the excitement and kept it moving.
The hamster excitement re focused her and she was off.
Nursery said she still wasn’t ready and suggested putting her back in nappies for a while longer. I disagreed but did as they requested but always encouraged toilet and pant use at home.
One day she farted twice, had a poo on her potty and high fived me like she meant it. Two stars for a poo and five mini marshmallows. Bribery is great.
I introduced the toddler toilet seat to our main toilet and she took to it like a duck to water, insisting on climbing up herself, shooing me away until…
‘MUMMY I DONE A POO, IT’S A CURLY ONE’
Music to my ears.
The following week I put her in pants again at nursery. A few accidents were had here and there and I got excited at pick up to see what parcel would be gifted to me. Usually a pair of pants and trousers wrapped in an inside out rubber glove with masking tape round it with her name on.
After a week or so those pee parcels stopped coming. The accidents had mostly stopped. Apart from the time she was playing after nursery with a friend in the playground and ran straight into a metal pole, which took her clean out. The shock relaxed her bladder. She had another fall at nursery the following day and the same thing happened, but other than that she’d conquered it and I couldn’t be more proud.
It’s a challenge to remember to take the potty everywhere. She hates public toilets as she’s sensitive to loud noises so finds the flushes and hand driers offensive. She will always choose a corner outside than a toilet as long as I turn my back and give her some privacy.
The mistake I’ve made at several points in my child’s life is just because she’s at the minimum age for something, doesn’t mean she’s actually ready for it. Every major developmental stage has always happened slightly later than some. I breastfed her until she was three, we still co sleep (legs everywhere) she didn’t go to nursery until she was two and she’s only just found her confidence on her scooter. And that’s fine. She is a happy, content, sociable little thing and I couldn’t be more proud that I get to wipe her bum every day.
The moral of the story is this; waiting until my child was actually ready made a huge difference. Having a word with myself and calming my anxiety is imperative. Having external help is priceless.
But most importantly? Bribery works.