A humbling day

Beware: This story contains some adorably silly but "messy" details about our recent potty-training experiences.

Today we awoke to a mostly sunny morning with only spotty clouds and the air feeling all of 70 degrees. L and I decided these were perfect conditions for our quest, at long last, to make it to the polar bear exhibit, which is at the far end of the San Diego Zoo.

Also this morning, I was feeling especially pleased about having reached the end of yet another great week of hard-core potty-training with C. He's been consistently on-target and even has gone on his own initiative a few times. So today I was feeling optimistic, and perhaps just a bit prideful about his latest accomplishments in the bathroom. In fact, if I'm being totally honest with myself, I did feel my posture straighten a little and my head lift higher yesterday as I listened to the ballet mommies discuss how their 3 1/2-year-olds still aren't fully potty-trained and they don't know what to do about it. I heard all of this between happy jaunts to the bathroom with my little 1 1/2-year-old, who had been communicating excellently with me about needing to pee several times that morning and had yet to have an accident. So you can see why today I was feeling confident and perhaps a little smug. I decided today was the day to spend our first whole morning out without a diaper. So, with portable potty in tow, we headed out to see the polar bears.

It was a lovely morning. We said hello to the bonobos, the hippos and lots of birds, then wound our way through the canyons, all the way to the polar bear plunge, then back down past the pandas and on to our lunch spot and the potties. Both children were happy and dry after all of this, I might add. So after burgers and animal crackers, we hit the potties successfully and started off for the hike back to the parking lot.

About 20 steps away from the bathrooms, we ducked into a gift shop to handle stuffed pandas and I noticed C was nervously yammering on about something that sounded like "pee" and "no."

"Do you need to use the potty?" I asked.

"Potty...No...Yes...Yes," was his reply.

I called urgently for L and headed back toward the bathroom. A long line had gathered at the ladies' room since our last stop there. I looked at C. I could tell he was anxious. There was no time. We ducked behind some bamboo trees and I whipped out the potty and tried to be cool, inconspicuously yanking down his trousers and setting him on his portable toilet. He smiled up at me. I felt that pride returning to my shoulders and neck. Then I glanced down into his training pants and discovered that he hadn't been able to wait after all. And it was a very messy mishap indeed.

For the next 10 minutes, imagine me, hunched over a messy potty, a messy bottom and very messy little-boy pants and shoes with about 25 baby wipes--nothing separating us from the lunching zoo population but a very transparent screen of bamboo trees. C thought it was funny. L skipped around in her own little bamboo forest feeling pretty immune to the grossness of the situation by now. I was thankful for fresh undies and pants and all of those damp cloths for cleaning up. Thankfully I hadn't been so cavalier as to leave out back-up supplies for potential accidents.

The rest of our zoo experience was joyful and delightfully tidy. C spent a long time watching the orangutans swing and play and a group of L's favorite birds (peacocks) paid us a surprise visit on the trail back to the car. L got to paint their portraits with watercolors in her sketchbook. It was a good day.

As I digest the day's events (no pun intended), I'm not disappointed about C's slow progress today. I'm happy for him that he was successful 5 out of 7 times. Tomorrow, we'll give it another go. I'll again tote the potty along wherever the day takes us, leaving the diapers at home, hoping for great things from my little guy. And if he has a better day than today, I will try not to feel so much like I've accomplished something great as a mother. No. I'll aim to be more humble about our potty-training successes and much more grateful for every pair of undies that stays clean until day's end. It's a long road to independence for small children. I can never assume any part of achieving that will be easy for me or for them. It's easy to be proud of the strides we make together. I have to pray diligently for the ability to be gracious in my handling of the missteps. Those are hard for me to accept sometimes.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some very dirty clothes to clean.