Wednesday, November 27, 2013

On Potty Training and God.

(This may be a bit of a scatterbrained post, but I felt like I needed to write it.... so here goes...)

I’m going to let you in on a little secret (that’s pretty well known if you know me in real life): potty training is the bane of my existence. It just gets to me in a place that I don’t like. I mean, the three year old phase is hard enough. Your kids are temperamental, want everything that is opposite of what you want,  yet somehow, we’ve decided this is a great time to jump up and down and wave flags and lock ourselves in our homes for 5 days straight in order to get said temperamental preschooler to hand over the one area of control they have left to be a “big boy/girl" and pee in a potty. Makes sense. 

I have all of this on the forefront of my mind because, as luck would have it, Connor decided it was time. Which is comical really, because last Monday I was bemoaning to his MDO teacher that I was giving up on trying to convince him it was time to make the grand transition. I couldn’t figure out what motivated him. We had tried EVERYTHING. M&M’s, hot wheels cars, big boy underpants, ice cream…. NOTHING worked. His MDO teacher chuckled along with me, because sometimes, there’s really nothing else to do during this terrific three year old phase than laugh (or cry) at the comedy of it all. And so I threw in the towel on Monday and bought another pack of diapers. Tuesday Connor turned 3. And Wednesday he woke up proclaiming that he was through with diapers. Of course.

I figured this was just a ploy to get his ration of blue M&M’s, but when he made it till the afternoon with not an accident, I started raising an eyebrow. And then Thursday came with the same scenario, at school even, and I high-fived myself on the inside, making the realization that perhaps there was a possibility afterall, of us being able to attempt potty training before Kindergarten.

That was last week. And so far, we’ve done fairly well, all things considered. As I was sitting here reflecting on the last week, I found a stark similarity between myself and my three year old, and wondered if this is how God feels sometimes when he needs us to grow up and change. Even if the change is for good, for some reason I stomp my feet and refuse to budge on what should be such a simple concept. God promises me rewards and blessings and still I stick my nose up at him. The difference between me and God in this situation is that during the potty training process, I tend to get a bit dramatic, thinking that my kids won’t ever change and that we’ll be stuck purchasing cases of diapers until Drew and I check into a nursing home (I realize that this all seems a bit irrational, but I found that sometimes parenting and rational thinking don't really blend as well as one may think they would). I've wondered if things would have been smoother, if only for me, had I just waited patiently, for the time that was right with Connor. That’s what God does with me. He doesn’t stomp his feet or demand I change regardless of how I feel about a situation. He waits for me. Patiently and gently. Still encouraging me. He’s a good God. I’m so grateful for His patience with me. And pray that as He prods me and reminds me of His faithfulness to me that I’m able to transfer it over to my parenting of the boys.

Hope you all have a very Happy Thanksgiving!


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