My daughter took away my bladder control. Somehow, it’s transferred to her, Freaky Friday-style. She can go hours without going potty because she hates to go potty. She can drink a gallon of fluid and hold it in for hours, while jumping on a trampoline. I could pee right before going on the trampoline and after one jump I’d let out a little in my undies.
Most kids that don’t want to go to the bathroom end up urinating on the floor, on the slide at the park or maybe even in the car. Not my daughter. She just holds it. She holds it until I make her go to the bathroom and this, my friends, is what sucks all of the energy out of me.
I have to wrestle her into time out to get her to go potty. It’s exhausting, because I think she might be stronger than me. In fact, I know she is. We end up running around the room like Wile E. Coyote and Road Runner. As I recall, Wile never catches the Road Runner. Well, we’re the live action version. The end result is me saying, “Daddy’s going to give you a time out when he gets home!”
At first I thought she might have a UTI and she didn’t want to pee because it was painful. Poor thing. I comforted her on her way into the bathroom, baby talk in tow and stickers after the flush. This wasn’t the case. Her physical health is just fine, but her mental one may be in question.
Was there some horror movie I missed (and she somehow viewed), where the toilet swallowed a small child? Is there a way I can get the big potty to make princess wand sounds too? I refuse to give her candy or stickers after every seating, because she’ll think she should be rewarded for all of little things she does in life.
I ask her, regularly, “why don’t you want to go potty?” and I always get the ever-so-insightful answer, “because I don’t want to.” Maybe it makes sense to her, but I don’t think her bladder is on par with this decision. I’m trying to save her from herself here.
When she finally goes, she pees right away. She pees so long that it makes me need to pee. “I did it!” she shouts. “I did it, Mommy!” I hope she’s saying this about an achievement that’s a little bigger than this someday, and I wonder when she’ll get bored of it. The cuteness is kind of wearing off.
I think I’ll start saying, “I did it!” to my husband every time I pee (and it’s A LOT), just to give him the ability to empathize. This is where I picture one of those movies where the wife calls and the husband answers the phone on speaker during a board meeting, but doesn’t tell her she’s on speaker. Except, I would tell him, especially if he was on speaker. Unfortunately, he’s not dumb enough to answer the phone on speaker. Dumb movie guys!
At this point, my make-up is all over my face from rubbing my eyes in frustration. I wear it so infrequently that I usually forget I have it on and end up with raccoon eyes. My hair is even more disheveled, than it usually is. “Did you wash your hands,” I ask.
“No! I don’t want to!” she shouts. Here’s where the wrestling and time out threats refresh. I want her to take a nap after every bathroom break. Mostly, so I can take one too.
Books are great, as a solution, but I don’t really want to read to her in the Applebee’s bathroom. Does anyone have any other suggestions?