Maa Ka Sahara!

My son was approaching three and still wasn’t potty-trained. Well, honestly being a mother who was approaching twenty-eight and still wasn’t a graduate, I had pretty less confidence for this matter too. Finally I decided to take a break from my work to pursue my pending studies AND potty-train my son. Because apparently a stay-at-home mom rarely has any work to do. Oh well I was in for a big surprise!

I researched thoroughly before approaching this task. I gathered all my data from my close circle that is my sister-in-laws, my mother, my mother-in-law, my friends, actually anyone who had to throw any advice for this humungous task. I geared myself up on extreme level patience for an emotional, tantrum-throwing, accident-prone, floor-wiping, washing-chuddies ride for the next few weeks. I was well prepared, I mused. After all, how hard it can be? Well the nature gave me that answer.

I started off slowly, giving him a few hours diaper-free tim

e every day. I took him to potty-seat after every fifteen minutes. YES after every freaking fifteen minutes! I soon realized that human baby body doesn’t work on strict clock. He would pee on the exact sixteenth and a half minute, wetting his chuddy, his trouser, his legs and then the floor. I washed his clothes twice or thrice each day smiling to myself, assuring myself “Good work Jveria! You didn’t break down like they did. You are one strong momma!”

The initial days are exciting. You take your son to the washroom, asking yourself will he really do it. After all you’re hanging on the mere thread of hope and your child finally responds to your call! You ask him;

“Rohab do pee-pee”

And he says, “Pee-pee?” and shoots pee-pee just like that!

You then hurriedly say; “Stop!” and he literally stops in mid-way!

Congratulations you’ve achieved pee-pee master level! On random days, I would say stop to just get the satisfaction of my son obeying to my commands and my heart would dance in glee. How super easy was that? The days gradually crept to weeks. My son was escorted to washroom and his green colored hippo potty-seat after every hour now. After a few weeks he started telling me when he wanted to pee.

The only problem was that he failed to distinguish between pee and poop. He would say; “Mama potty ai” and I would jump to usher him to washroom to realize he actually meant pee. One fine day, he told me about pee. I took him to washroom and he accidently pooped! He could not believe the science of his small body too! “Mama..see…that.. pishi! From back!” Those were his exact words I remember. After that when I told him to poop, he would dutifully oblige and would push with all his might, only in vain. He would still poop in his diaper only. I started surprising him, and took him to his seat in his mid-pooping session. After all I knew what exact faces he drew to poop. How much time it required. How long the session lasted.

Weeks stretched to months. And my energy levels weren’t the same. His peeing didn’t excite me anymore. It reminded me of the love that had died in the process. All the chaperoning, all the coaxing, all the pleading, all the bonding that lasted over those sessions when he simply would not poop at all, no matter how many jellies I promised, felt like a routine now. I wanted more. I wanted big. My nature-denying instincts rose again. I was greedy for his poop. Because that only would satisfy my motherly instincts and I could join the league of super mommies who trained their child within few months if not weeks. I was failing. I could sense it. My patience was on the brink. Sometimes it over spilled and I would scream as if the child wasn’t mine but someone else’s. Sorry! Why would I ever scream at another child? He was definitely all MINE. I admit it was all too much!

Even today he pooped five times in his pants. I roared like a hulk telling him that how many times I have to remind him when he has to poop he has to tell me, he has to do the deed on the seat, how hard it is to grasp the simple three steps?

1. Identify the problem

2. Tell mom

3. POOP on the goddamn seat!!

And he looked at me with his puppy-dog eyes, said yes at every pause and then started looking in the mirror to acknowledge how good he was acting in this tense situation with a cunning smile. (I really admire him for his skills though.) I barely managed not to laugh at his expressions. After all, I was a mother! I needed to handle this!

And then it dawned on me. I WAS the mother! I AM THE MOTHER STILL! Why am I being so hard on myself? I quietly stood up, went to his drawers, pulled out a fresh piece of canbebe diaper from the pack and strapped my son in it. There! Problem solved! Because after all, ‘maa bhee thak jati hai’ J #maakasahara #canbebediapers #canbebe