It's hour 3 of day 1 and I can feel my resolve waning. I'm beginning to question everything.
How did I end up here? I'm overwhelmed. Am I doing the wrong thing? Did I make the wrong decision? Am I screwing this up? I'm becoming angry at myself for not sticking to my guns and going with what my instinct told me. But I'm past the point of no return. There's no going back now. I have to power through. I swallow the lump in my throat, fight back the tears, and retrieve yet another pair of training pants from the cabinet.
I am trying to pinpoint exactly how I ended up here and I think back to the scene in the airport. It was the week before Thanksgiving and I had to travel to Dallas for the week for a meeting. As is my habit I phoned my mother from the gate to tell her I would be boarding soon. We made small talk for a bit and then she dropped the bomb. It started out innocently enough with a seemingly nice offer.
"Sweetheart, some Saturday we'd like to take RJ for you so you can have the whole day to focus on DC," and then she laid it out. "So you can get him potty trained."
The blood began rushing in my ears blocking out the gate attendant over the loudspeaker. The hair on the back of my neck bristled and adrenaline coursed through my veins as my body went into full scale "FIGHT OR FLIGHT" mode.
"I just don't think he's quite ready yet Mom." I measuredly replied. "Remember we took that quiz in the book YOU bought me which said we should wait a few months?"
"Had I known that quiz was in the book I would have ripped out the page before I gave it to you. You know I was talking to several young mothers at church who have boys his age and they are ALL already potty trained," she matter-of-factly responded.
I'm trying to gauge her but I'm getting mixed signals. Her tone is sing-songy but her words are fierce.
"I just don't think he's quite there yet," I offer. "You know I HAVE done this before with RJ. I'd be happy to take you up on the offer when we DO think it's time." I'm trying to end the conversation at this point and escape with minimal damage.
"Well sweetie," she begins sweetly. "You know the story about that man whose parents didn't teach him to read until he began to show interest? He was 7 years old before he could even read!!! You don't want THAT now do you?"
At this point I lose it. I don't even realize that I have jumped up from my seat and am waving my hand in the air. My voice escalates to an inappropriate level as I retort back. "WELL I'LL PROMISE YOU THIS MOM. I WILL TEACH MY CHILD TO USE THE POTTY BEFORE HE TURNS 7. FURTHERMORE I WILL MAKE YOU A PROMISE THAT HE WILL BE USING THE POTTY BEFORE HE LEARNS TO READ!!!!"
As I whirl around in my anger I see my entire flight is lined up to board merely steps behind me. And there they all stand, mouths agape, staring at me and my outburst. There is nothing left to do but finish my performance at this point. I hold my phone in the air and address the crowd.
"CAN I GET AN AMEN?!?!"
Thankfully they let me on the flight despite my erratic behavior but it has been eating at me ever since. Therefore I find myself soaked in pee on our 8th accident in 3 hours despite the fact that I am taking him potty literally ever 15 minutes. I am defeated.