It is common knowledge when preparing to become a parent that one must change diapers, but I was not prepared for what comes after potty training. I am thankful to be out of that stage in my life…at least for awhile longer before I have to go through it again with Austin. It has actually been long enough now that I am ready to talk about the traumas and maybe even share a laugh or two about it.

I was so excited when I could finally put away the diaper bag and the “moist toilettes”. No longer would I have to roll up my sleeves, hold my breath and remove human discharge from a wiggling child’s bottom while trying desperately NOT to get any on me. But then came the calls from the bathroom. “Moooommyyy”…..then even louder,”MOOMMMMYYYYYYY”. ” I need help wiping my bottom.” I doesn’t sound like that big of a transition, but the mess I use to remove with a handy dandy wipey is now much more difficult with a less sturdy piece of toilet paper. Darn, where are my plastic gloves when I need them! I tried to show them how to do it on their own, but when it comes down to the truth, kids don’t want the dirty job either. So the battle of the wills begins.

After months of the calling out from the bathroom and strained affirmation announced back by me, “you can do it, your a big boy now!” they finally gave up, but not without continued torture. Phase Two of the transition began when a naked child approached me, pants down, and fully bent over he says, “Mom, did I get it all?” Choking down the last bite of my lunch, I made the mistake of answering his question while staring into his “big brown eye” (if ya know what I mean). I really do not recommend this unless you want the phase to last longer. When I finally learned my lesson and refused to open my eyes and look anymore, the boys needed to find another way to torture me. Clogging the toilet with as much TP as they could possibly stuff into it was not enough. Nor was putting dirty toilet paper into the garbage. Come on, we don’t live in Mexico or Brazil. That is something I had only seen while on the mission field!

Phase Three, just when I think it’s all over, I find a child standing on the bathroom sink, bent over, butt to the mirror, several squares in hand ready for any missed spots that the mirror may expose. I really felt the mom part of me saying I needed to do something to stop this madness, but the lady in me went into self preservation mode. I picked my jaw off of the floor and quietly walked away. What I don’t know or go into denial about, won’t hurt me…I hope.

“If I had it to do all over again…”, my mom always says when the conversation turns to my childhood. Her countenance changes as the regret and condemnation she still struggles with fills her eyes with tears.

Today I did a little reflecting of my own as I talked to a long time friend about potty training. Austin is almost two and it is still the furthest thing from my mind. He is almost definitely my last baby. Friends and family often comment on how much my parenting style has changed since my last two boys. By this age Isaac had spent countless mornings on the potty. There was no action going on. He had not shown any kind of an interest. Nor did he exhibit any of the readiness signs. But, being an idealistic first time mother and comparing him to what my mother always said I was capable of at 18 months, I thought he should be ready. Even if he wasn’t I was determined to make him ready. So, I would serve him his breakfast on the potty if I had to, but he was not getting up until he went. I have pictures of him fast asleep on the potty. And I ask myself, “What the heck was I thinking!”

I was young, and selfish and stubborn. Poor little Caleb, I can barely remember him as a baby. I was so caught up in pushing Isaac to grow up too fast and with the issues in my own life, that I never really bonded with him until he was three.

I had always wanted to be a mom. I had dreamed about it all of my life just like most girls do. But, somewhere in my mind I thought it would be different. I imagined that having children would be like wearing my favorite fashion accessory. They would be almost a part of me, make me feel good about myself, but without being too much or getting in the way. You could only imagine my surprise as I discovered that my whole life had to change. I would have to find a new normal. Everywhere I go, everything I do requires much more effort and planning. I may somehow manage to get myself and the baby ready and to church on time, but that last diaper change just before service has left me with only 2 undesirable choices. Either try to make it home and back to change my clothes before the whole service is over. Or sit through the service wet with baby pee on my top. I would have to learn to be flexible, to plan ahead, but be ready to change everything at the last minute. Ultimately, I was going to need to learn to love and to see to my children’s needs above my own.

Fast forward six years later, a little older, a little wiser but geez, SIX YEARS later! Baby Austin was born. I rocked him, I slept with him….I enjoyed him. I stopped trying to produce an Olympic gold medalist baby, and just let him be our little blessing. He is a baby being raised under grace rather than the law. Not one day has gone by that I have not adored him and loved being his Mom.

One day Austin will have to thank his big brothers for making me the mommy I am today. They taught me to be more selfless…at least more than I use to be anyway. They taught me to relax, things are not always going to be in tip top order. They loved me unconditionally and showed me how to love them and Austin in the same way.

So today I thought, “if I had it to do all over again” and guilt and condemnation welled up inside of me, but God’s grace took over and showed me the way out. I sat my boys down and told them how special they are to me. I confessed how my selfishness had failed them and asked their forgiveness. We prayed together and asked God to heal and restore every part. Then the boys spoke a blessing over all of us that they learned in church. And it’s done. God does the rest.

I am far from being a perfect mother, but I believe that with help from the Holy Spirit, a humble heart before my children and a willingness to continue to grow, my children will grow up whole and strong.