Did I Make a Mistake Letting My Kid Potty Train Early?

It’s something I’ve wondered more than once in the wee hours of the morning. 

First, let me say: Whoever came up with the concept of  lasagne bedding. Bless you.

If you don’t know what I mean, it’s literally just layers of waterproof sheets alternated with normal ones. And when it’s the middle of the night and your little has just had an accident but is clinging to you in a sleepy fog, it’s the best thing ever. One hand can easily find a corner and roll it up, revealing fresh dry sheets underneath.

Somewhere between rolling up those sheets and getting back to my desk, I remembered the thing that started all this: America’s trash problem.

About seven years before my kid was anything more than a whisper in the stars, I was lounging on my couch watching a documentary about landfill issues in the U.S. The image that stuck was mountains of plastic  diapers stacked like monuments to convenience.

I don’t purport to be an eco-warrior, just someone mildly allergic to wastefulness. I remember thinking that if I ever did find a handsome Latino fella to settle down with, I’d definitely use cloth diapers.

That thought filed itself away somewhere. I carried on with life.

Until I got preggo.

Then that gross fact came fluttering to the top of the anxiety pile.

By the time I’d known about my little seed for a week, I’d locked in brands and bookmarked half the internet. By six months pregnant, I had my whole stash. I was ready.

And then she came out. 

And while cloth was a good experience in general, thanks in large part to my handsome latino guy who spent his days swapping out cycles like a pro, in hindsight, I probably didn’t need to be as militant about not using a single disposable.

I got seventeen packs of wet wipes for my baby shower, which I didn’t actually start using until she turned eighteen months, preferring my holy trinity of cloth wipes, rooibos-infused water spray, and sheer determination. Waste not want not, right?

And while I probably was under the influence of a little bit of PPA , and PPD, I think I can admit now, that I really took it to the extreme. Although anyone who told me I was being ridiculous probably would have gotten at least a sideways glance, if not an outright rebuke. I was fragile, not nearly caffeinated as I would have liked, and on a mission.Hell hath no fury like a cloth mama told to “just use a disposable.” One relative actually said that — bless her heart — and lived to tell the tale.

When my kid was about eleven months old. We went to a restaurant, and as we walked to the bathroom to change her diaper. This woman, a total stranger, says to me, “Why is your child still in diapers when she can walk? She should be potty trained already.”

And I was like, wait … what? Hold my juice box. Did I miss the memo somewhere?

Cue awkward spiral into investigating every type of potty out there. I spent a month evaluating potties like a sommelier tasting wines — peering, poking, overthinking.

Turns out simple is the best. Thank you, Crazy Store, for your R99 blue potty. One solid piece, no grooves, no bells or whistles to get germed up. 

I was lucky to come across the book Oh Crap! Potty Training by Jamie Glowacki. My hypnobirthing coach, Hellen, deserves a sainthood for handing me that book while I ugly-cried for solutions.

Glowacki made sense,  funny, pragmatic, and unpretentious. I liked her immediately.
Her method was about readiness: small stages, clear cues. “If they can sing the ABCs,” she said, “they can follow directions.”

But of course, hindsight is always 20-20.

We didn’t rush the diapers. We focused on night bottles, on rhythm. We sang the ABCs for breakfast, lunch, and supper. Showing her how to pull her pants up and down every chance we got.  Little proactive nudges without actually saying, “Okay, diaper off.”

Then she started showing she didn’t want diapers anymore.

And my kid? Built entirely out of strong will. By seventeen months, she needed two adults to change her. One person literally had to pin her down while the other did the diaper. She would squiggle, she would scream. It was not a fun task for anyone.

She was showing all the signs;  going to the corner to hide behind something while she had a wee. Doing the dance, saying I don’t want this wet diaper. 

So I took the leap.

The first six days were horrible. I kept wondering if starting potty training early was a mistake and my sanity more times than I care to admit.

The seventh day was marginally better.

The eighth day, we went to my mom’s house and just like that she got it.

We didn’t have any issues for about three or four months before another hiccup, but generally, it was easy. We knew her signals. She was clear about what she needed and wanted.

The only thing was timing. Going to the grocery store without a diaper was never a good idea.Especially since some of the shopping centers around here have that stupid two-rand toilet entry.Who walks around with two rand in their pocket at all times?

When a toddler says “I want a wee,” it’s got to be now.

I remember once I just took my hoodie off, put it underneath her, and let her wee on it so it didn’t drip on the floor. Then I folded it into the wet bag. The magic of cloth is that anything can be a diaper if you’re desperate enough. Before you yuck out, wee is sterile and nothing that soap can’t take care of. BUT the embarrassment of furiously wiping a puddle on the floor of Checkers? That lingers.

Just as we really started finding our rhythm, of course, came the other voices.

“Oh, you trained her too early.”
“You’re going to give her a bladder infection.”
“She won’t know how to wee properly later.”

Everyone had an opinion. After breastfeeding and elective C section, I think Potty training is a hot, hot topic. 

A big part of me was proud of my kid: look, she’s got it! Another part of me kept second-guessing. Did I push her too hard? Was she ready? 

But she hated being wet, and that’s the thing with cloth – kids feel it right away.

We managed day training quickly, and around two and a half, we started potty training at night. She’d gone 5 days  without a wet diaper, so we took the plunge all over again. 

A little more laundry, a little less sleep. Lasagne bedding to the rescue. And sorry universe, I gave up on night time cloth fairly quickly. 

We’d go for weeks without an accident, then three or four nights in a row she’d wet the bed. Eventually it came right. We started with two dream wees a night and by six months that got down to one.

UNTIL we said goodbye to her dummy 6 months later.

Cue clingon level 500 and if I was a minute late with the dream wee there was a problem. Another 6 months to get that under some semblance of control. She’d wake herself to pee, then proudly announce it like a news bulletin.  And then when you least expect it, baam, or more accurately, splash.

I know part of it is the “liquid upside-down pyramid” Jamie Glowacki talks about but you have to know my kid. The nights I’ve tried to enforce it, she drinks the bath water. So I pick my battles.

Tonight though, for the first time in a month, she wet the bed.

And my first thought was: Did I fuck up.Sould I have waited? Should I have left her in diapers longer? Was potty training early the wrong call? All that mom-anxiety comes rushing in again.

It’s exhausting.

Exhausting being a parent who tries.

I’ve seen people drive with their three-year-old dancing unstrapped in the front seat. I’m not that parent. If you are reading this, neither are you. 

I’m talking to the mom who makes a sincere effort to do her best but still never feels good enough.

And while I’m still wondering if I made a mistake letting her potty train early, I think what I’m really asking is how much pressure we put on ourselves — and how we can be gentler with ourselves.

I can almost hear my wonderful life coach Collette tell me, “If you were talking to your friend, what would you say?”

But therein lies the rub.I’m a lot nicer to my friends than I am to myself.

And to answer the question if I made a mistake potty training my kiddo earlier, who knows. Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. Either way, like Jamie says, if you’re already in hell, the shortest way out is through.

I used to think parenting was a list of milestones. Now I think it’s a long series of tiny experiments in letting go and accepting what you can actually control (thanks Collette).