So a little book I was reading recently reminded moms of young children that, no matter how easy it is to focus on the one thing a child is getting wrong, we have to be careful not to lose sight of all the progress he or she makes every day. 

Given that I have focused almost entirely on my little dude’s PT issues, in real life and online, this statement really struck me. I have really worked hard in the last couple of weeks to praise Alex for all the stuff he gets right in a day. For all the ways he blesses my socks off. For what a sweet and wonderful little guy God placed in our life. But I also decided I needed to record some of what I’ve been telling him so everybody else knows what a fantastic little boy we have, too.

So…here are some random details about Alex for you to enjoy.

In recent days, Alex has started to give his sisters nicknames. Especially Megan. For a while this summer she was called (and answered to) “My Little Cowie-Wowie.” She was also dubbed Bo-Bo for a few days. Of course, he took to calling himself “Dirty Rock” around that time, too. I have no idea why, but he thinks he’s hysterical. 

Alex is best described as consistent. Sometimes that is frustrating (like when he won’t go potty just a minute earlier). But when I stopped to think about it, I realized that most of the time, it’s a really great trait. Once he decides to do something, he does that way almost every single time. Like taking his own dishes to the counter after meals. We started giving the twins that “chore” to do, and after about two days, Alex had it down. I never have to remind him. He just does it. 

He’s quite the helper, still. He likes to help me cook or bake (actually all 3 will line up chairs to watch and assist). And he’s started being very concerned that we get our toys put away in the afternoon so Daddy can pull all the way into the garage. He will put them all away by himself…sometimes 45 minutes before Daddy is due home. 

He LOVES the idea of a new baby boy. He wants to show just about everyone who comes over the ultrasound pictures of the baby’s boy parts. He talks to the baby through my shirt. And he’s decided we should call the baby “Little Alex.” 

Alex loves for you to praise him. But he does not do things for praise. Much like his dad, he doesn’t care if you’re watching or not most of the time. He knows and can do just about as much as Erin, but he refuses to compete with her to prove it. If we’re doing our ABC verses, he rarely tries to outdo Erin at each one. But if you ask him about them when Erin’s not around, he knows every last one by heart. I’m always amazed at how much more he can do that I realized.

He is finally getting the hang of pedaling, but he’d still rather just run. 

Daddy is his favorite person in the entire world. He wrestles with Eric, climbs up to stand on his back or shoulders. He loves to snuggle with Daddy, curled up in his lap, while they do iPod stuff together. It’s really, really sweet.

The other day, he picked up a library book we’d gotten and began to flip the pages and “read” the story. He told the whole story and even got the words right on about half the pages. 

When he’s in the mood, Alex will climb up on some sort of “stage” and perform a song for you, sometimes one he’s made up. He used to just announce “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I will now sing for you…Twinkle Twinkle”. Now, though, he’s started holding his hand like he’s holding a microphone, tap it to see if it’s working, clear his throat, and then make his announcement and begin to sing. I still don’t know where he got all that stuff!

Anyway, that’s some of what my little Mr. Dude is up to. We sure do love him lots. He’s sweet and kind (most of the time). He really does care about his sisters (though his attempts to kiss Megan goodnight usually involve a chokehold on her neck). He’s definitely a special little guy, and I am super-blessed to be his mom.

To all the mothers whose children were easy to potty train…God bless you. I’m thrilled for you. And horribly jealous. Because I wouldn’t wish potty training a difficult child on my worst enemy. Not my very worst one.

The details aren’t important. Suffice it to say that Erin is about 95% trained. Alex is closer to 75%, maybe a little more. This week, I’m going to have to suck it up and start with 22-month old Megan because any more delay is just proof of my own cowardice in this area.

And for me…potty training has been just about the absolute worst part of the preschool years.

A year of being daily up to my elbows in the practical reality of potty training has finally brought me to my knees…face-to-face with how pitifully shallow is my well of godliness. Having stumbled into a realm where I cannot convince a little boy to go to the potty 2 minutes sooner, I’ve learned that whatever Spirit-like qualities I thought I had…well, there isn’t nearly the store of them that I would have bragged to you about even a few short months ago.

Yes, Alex can and will go. I’ve seen him hold it, by choice, for 9 hours. But on any given day, we slog through wet underpants, wet shorts, wet shirts, pee sprayed as if by water cannon to the farthest reaches of the bathroom. A daily struggle that no reward and no punishment seem to be an effective motivation to move past.

And I’m discouraged.

I feel like I’m the one who’s failing him. I know it’s his choice. I know he’s only 3 and half. I know he’ll “get it” eventually. I know all of that. But after I’ve changed the 6^th pair of underpants, 4^th pair of shorts and cleaned up the bathroom floor for the second time in a day…I start wondering what I’m doing wrong.

And I get frustrated. More than a year, and it feels like we’re spinning our wheels, making little to no progress. Of course, “everyone” goes on and on about not being negative, only positive, no matter how many mistakes are made. But honestly…that’s a pipe dream for me right now. Sure, some days go well. My attitude is okay. We deal with it, even have great success (he really can stay dry all day…he did it yesterday). But most days…it’s not just the cause of my ever-growing laundry pile, it’s also the source of my greatest mess-up as a mom.

Yet…here’s the funny thing. As I’ve searched and prayed and longed for encouragement and answers about the whole 10-car pileup, I’m starting to see that we’re really having the same problem, me and Alex.

There’s not much difference between his potty-training issues and my own.

Not that my PT issues involve the actual using of the bathroom. I can do that just fine. But my lack of patience, my frustration (even anger) on the long, rough days, my inability to find the way out of this one on my own, the desperate need for someone to tell me I’m not a horrible person, even though I keep messing this one up, over and over and over. All of that just makes me want to cry. Why can’t I get it right? And why, after all my striving, won’t someone just give me a hug and tell me something that will make me feel better?

And then it hits me…this must be exactly how my little boy feels.

I’m struggling because I can’t find us an answer (which I, of course, always have), because I end up scolding him for not going potty like he “should,” because it’s been a whole year of hard work and potty talk and I still can’t see the end looming anywhere in sight. I’m tired and too hard on myself and think getting it “right” means never, ever doing it wrong. 

And so is he.

He’s trying. I know he is. He’s been working on this for a whole year, too, and he’s not getting it “right” either. He’s my tender-hearted little man, easily embarrassed, and his Mommy keeps harping on how he’s not doing what she wants. He’s learning a new skill, and it’s not coming easily, and Erin rubs it in that he’s messed up and Mommy gets frustrated instead of showing grace.

No wonder we aren’t making progress…either of us! 

And on top of all that, I’m starting to wonder if this isn’t really about potty training anyway. I’m starting to wonder if there are much bigger things at stake here than wet pants and puddles of pee.

I’m starting to wonder if it’s much more about what sort of God I’m putting on display. Am I showing my kids a God who condemns us for our lack of perfection, like I tend to do to Alex? Am I showing them that, no matter what I say to the contrary, I still believe God is demanding me to never disappoint him, to always get it right? Am I illustrating brilliantly my complete ignorance of grace?

I’m starting to wonder if it’s less about potty training than about learning how to fail. First about letting my kids learn at 3, instead of 16 or 27 or 55, that sometimes you can work for months and months and still not get it “right.” That progress is the focus, not perfection. But not just teaching them – teaching me. Challenging my long-held belief that life is all about the end goal and my tendency to demand and fake perfection and forcing me instead to think of life in terms of choosing daily disciplines that will eventually get me to that end goal, but on His term, not mine.

I’m starting to wonder if it’s less about getting my son to go to the potty 2 minutes earlier and more about God designing for us an impasse that forces me to depend, to pray, to stop spit-shining my “good mom” persona and be honest about the depth and frequency of my mom-fails, and to recognize (and even blog about) my need for encouragement and restoration. Something that, for all of those reasons and more, I might actually need to be…*gasp*…thankful for?!?

At least, that’s some of what I’m starting to wonder. And I have no real answers.

But, when nap time is over, we will start again. Fighting the battles. Finding the grace we both need to get us over the hump. Discerning who my son really is so that we can find the just-right motivation that will help him succeed.

And I will start over again, too. Cleaning up messes (mine and his). Learning to forgive (myself and him). Asking for help. Keeping perspective. Learning to give thanks. Searching for grace.

Until one of these days, I can happily announce that we all survived the trenches of potty training. And oh…what a glorious day that will be!

1. When a Pepsi can freezes solid inside a hotel refrigerator and explodes at 2 a.m., it sounds like a gun shot and has enough force to actually blow the fridge door open. (Scared me to death, too.)

2. If you tire out your kids enough, they can actually sleep through a pop can exploding inside a hotel room fridge. 

3. Megan is fearless. (Okay I already knew this one, but it got reinforced when she was jumping (wearing a floatie thing) into the hotel pool, without holding anyone’s hands. Crazy girl!)

4. When I don’t have internet for 3 days, I get lots of housework done.

5. AT&T has great customer service, once you get past the robo-operator. Robo-dude kept telling me to restart my computer when we actually had a broken wire in the outside AT&T box. So yeah, not helpful!

6. Assuming that one day we will get past it, I think I will look back on potty training in the same way I look back on junior high. Long frustrating years I’m so glad I’ll never have to do again. 

7. It doesn’t matter whether you actually like or understand a particular sport…when you watch it during the Olympics, you can’t help but be excited and cheer. 

8. I despise primetime coverage of the Olympics.

9. When my kids throw fits over stupid little things…it looks a lot like what happens when I throw a fit over a stupid little thing. Go figure. 

10. Our internet was down since Tuesday, and a friend/neighbor moved away this week. And I have been very lonely. I had no idea how much I relied on those two resources for connection and support. 

11. My body is not going to hold up as well with this pregnancy as it did with the previous two. I was really hurting yesterday.

12. Listening to my kids say their ABC verses to me (and to each other) is one of the sweetest things ever. 

13. “His divine power has provided all I need for life and godliness through the knowledge of Him…” — in other words, “The Lord is my shepherd; I have everything I need” (NLT).