Matt and I had two choices about when to give Lyle the final push into potty training: a) next week; or b) the last two weeks in August.
These are my two summer vacations from work, and therefore, the only real options for Lyle to be running around the house bare-bottomed with an adult chasing behind with the paper towels and vinegar. Part of me wanted to do it at the end of August because I’ll be around for two full weeks and I just hate that we have to push him into it at all, so I’d love to give him as much time for readiness as possible. But, practically speaking, we felt it would be better to do it next week so that he’ll be as well-practiced as possible when he heads off to nursery school in his little Lightning McQueen undies in mid-September. So we decided last night: next week it is.
Today I found myself at home with Lyle all morning, waiting for a service guy to come work on the car windshield. A rare long stretch at home on our own. I’m not sure how it started, now that I think about it – maybe he said the word “underwear”? – but by 9 AM he was running around bare bottomed with me chasing after him with the paper towels and vinegar. I hauled the portable potty from room to room with us, a constant reminder that – should the need arise – success was just a few steps away. I got an M & M every time I successfully used the toilet (which, I might add proudly, was every time, folks!) and he managed to get a couple as well, with only one accident just after lunch. He was so sad about the wet undies that he cried. I matter-of-factly washed him and the white rug in the sun room and said nothing about it.
Matt pointed out at lunch that this was so ME, to decide to do it next week and then start this morning instead. This is true. When I get inspired, I’m not so big on waiting. I remember the day I was at home with Baxter, age 22 months, and decided that soon he should switch to the bed from the crib. I was excited! Nap time that day found him snoozing happily on the futon I had lugged into his room and there he remained. I have had multiple experiences in my life when I decided to get a drastically different hair cut and there was not going to be any waiting – if my stylist wasn’t free to do it within 24 hours I went to someone else. I really hate the hemming and hawing of big decisions and prefer to get beyond them quickly. Luckily, Matt’s the same way: you should see how fast we pick out furniture. (And houses, come to think of it…)
So, yes, this type of compulsive decision-making is “me”. But it hasn’t failed me yet.