Potty Problems

It's all I think about. 
It's all I talk about. 
(And it's apparently all I write about, too.)
It's what I dream about at night, and it's what I scheme about in the daytime. 
I read books, blogs, articles, and pamphlets on the topic. 
I've asked opinions of everyone from strangers to clients to the mailman (ok, not really the mailman...yet). 
Just the thought of it makes my heart race and my palms sweaty. 
I've cried about it...on many occasions.
It's as though all my years on this planet, all my experiences as a mother and human being, are all culminating in this one cosmic struggle:
Will my smart and spunky daughter EVER poop in the potty?!  More importantly, HOW do I break through her will of steel to get her to poop on the potty?!

I can do no other than shake my head when I think of the lengths to which I have gone and the depths to which this anxiety has seeped into my mind and my life and even my very soul.

This all started innocently enough about six weeks ago when she wanted to use the potty like Caleb and Judson...great!  Go right ahead!  In the next few days, I remember bragging to my friends that Wren basically just potty trained herself because we were having zero accidents.  I should have known then that this was coming...pride always comes before the fall.
As the days went by, while she was having no pee accidents, she became more and more wary of pooping on the potty.  Not that she was really pooping anywhere else - she just was holding it...for days until she couldn't anymore.  Not only that, but she was still acting like she had to go:  doing the "I have to go potty" dance, grabbing herself, and saying, "It hurts me!"  All. Day. Long.  Back and forth to the potty we went over and over again until I thought my head would explode from frustration.  The more I read about "withholding" the more my anxiety level increased because this apparently can turn into a full-blown medical condition, requiring medical and psychological intervention.  Yikes! 
There was a direct correlation between the length of time between her poops and my anxiety level.  It was (is) not pretty.  As we all know, if Mama aint happy, aint nobody happy.  We have to figure this out.
So I pulled out all the stops:  bribery with things like necklaces, bracelets, sunglasses, ladybug wings, lipstick, purses, books, ice cream, etc.  You poop in the potty, you get a prize!  It sort of worked...until it just didn't anymore.  Now she just has all of this potty paraphernalia that she carries around with her everywhere, including back and forth from the potty.  As Tony says, she now has more baggage than a mama's boy on the first day of school.

We tried relaxing on the potty (hoping that everything would relax, if you know what I mean).  Have you ever tried painting the fingernails and toenails of a two year old sitting on a potty while trying to coach her on yoga breathing?  Not only did we end up with fingernail polish in our hair, but we ended up with no poop in the potty.  Incidentally, we also were not very relaxed.

 I think she at one point spent about 35 minutes sitting on the potty watching nursery rhymes on our tablet - still with no poop!  I missed the majority of a birthday party (held at my house, I might add) because we were in the bathroom watching YouTube videos waiting for the elusive poop to come - all to no avail.

When it finally chose to arrive (usually every 48 hours), it would always arrive shortly after we got off the potty and in the split second when Mommy and Daddy were occupied with something else - usually in her pants.  Talk about frustrating!  She would then get this little pitiful look on her face and say, "I sad.  Mommy you sad?"

The bribery route was not working, and she was just using the potty as her own personal lounge chair to watch YouTube videos that she would not otherwise get to see.  If it had worked, we would have continued on this path, but since it was fruitless, we had to change our tactics.  We then approached the topic with logic.  I spent probably upwards of $50 on books about poop - why we poop, who poops, what foods to eat to make better poop, etc.  We've named our poop and talked about it swimming and going down waterslides.  Still, we sat and waited and it never came.   She couldn't go on holding her poop for so long.  Something had to give.
We have since transitioned to a more austere training path.  This is a method that I had read about early on but that had seemed a bit harsh to me, but desperate times call for desperate measures.  Gone are the days of potty prizes, nursery rhyme binges, and personal spa treatments.  She's lucky if she gets a high-five for a successful trip to the potty now.  If she's doing the potty dance and we all know it's time that she went, we take her to the potty and tell her that she must stay it the bathroom until she's done her business and to call us when she's done.  I'm nonchalant.  I'm breezy.  Then we close the door and leave.  We all use the potty with no fanfare.  It's time for her to put on her proverbial (and actual) big girl panties and use the potty like the rest of us.  Now, we all know that I'm leaning against the door, with my ear pressed against it, trying to tell what's going on in there.  I can't usually make out much because of all the crying that begins as soon as the door closes.  But...BUT...we have had some "successes" of sorts.  (And I use the term "success" very loosely.)  When we do this method, within minutes, she will poop (because she has to go and she's alone) - albeit in the floor.  The way I see it, it's still better than withholding for days on end and driving us all (including herself) crazy and possibly causing herself physical harm.  Now we're just working on getting her to sit on the potty when it finally comes.
Meanwhile, Judson, who had been sort of potty trained (I know, that's like "sort of pregnant" but he seemed to get the picture but for a few accidents), is now basically back to not being trained at all.  We were spending so much time in the potty with Wren that it was impossible to tend to another toddler on the potty all day.  It was just easier to put a pull-up on him, which caused him to just go back to his days of diapers.  So, alas, tomorrow we embark again on his round two of potty training.  Please pray for us.

I wish I could leave with some words of wisdom, but, frankly, I don't have any yet.  This has been my most trying time as a parent.  And trust me, I know how ridiculous that sounds to people who have either never had kids or whose kids are much older.  You just forget.  And you just assume that everyone is eventually potty trained.  Yes, that is true, but only because their parent finally figured out how to make it click for them...I just haven't figured that out for her yet.  Maybe the secret really is in being laid back and matter-of-fact.  Since I've tried to dial my anxiety level back a bit (as much as is possible), hers has also seemed to decrease.  We shall see.
Until then, I look forward to the days when I'm an old lady, and Wren has to give me my mani/pedi while I'm sitting on the potty. What goes around comes around, girl!