I consider myself a seasoned mom. I have three kids, and my youngest is a toddler, which means I’ve earned my stripes. But if potty training has taught me anything, it’s that experience does not equal consistency. If parenting came with a control group, potty training would be the variable that blows the whole experiment apart.
With my first, we were those eager, wide-eyed first-time parents who jumped at the very first sign of readiness. Our son showed interest in the potty, and we took that as our cue. I read Oh Crap, bought the potty, stocked up on underwear, and mentally prepared myself for three intense days locked inside the house. Spoiler alert: He was not potty-trained after three days. He would, however, only poop in a diaper, which felt like a personal insult.
The months that followed included multiple loads of laundry per day and a slow but steady erosion of my spirit. Looking back now, it’s obvious what went wrong: 17 months was simply too early. There was curiosity, sure—but not readiness. A distinction I now respect deeply.
Fast forward to my middle son. He had just turned three and had shown signs of readiness for a while, but I was traumatized by our first attempt, and dragging my feet. Around that time, Big Little Feelings released a potty training course. I had followed them since he was born and loved their content, so I bought the course, took diligent notes, and convinced myself this time would be different.
I kept him home from school on a Friday before a long weekend so we could fully commit. Once we got my oldest on the bus, I announced with confidence, “Today we’re going to learn to put our pee and poo in the potty. You get to be naked today!”
I thought this would be thrilling. I was wrong. So very wrong.
The audacity of my suggestion triggered an Oscar-worthy meltdown that had me questioning every parenting choice I’d ever made. Once I calmed down and stopped spiraling into my second potty-training defeat, I asked him what was wrong with the plan.
Through tears, he said, “Mommy, I just want to wear my undies.”
I calmly agreed while internally screaming. And just like that, we went rogue. We started in underwear. He had one accident on day one and never wet again. Truly a best-case scenario and a humbling lesson in listening.
Riding that high, I was certain my third would be a breeze. I had cracked the code. I was the potty training queen.
NOPE.
Potty training turned out to be the last shred of control my toddler was willing to cling to. Diaper changes became a battleground. She wanted to use the potty strictly on her terms. I tried everything: Frozen underwear, treats, bribes involving toy store trips. All were met with her favorite word—no.
So when she eventually came downstairs holding underwear in one hand and M&Ms in the other and announced she would pee and poo in the potty if she got two M&Ms every time, I agreed immediately. No hesitation.
The only catch? This happened two days before my husband left the country for a seven-day trip, leaving me solo with a freshly potty-training toddler. Because of course it did.
Thankfully, it’s been relatively smooth. We’re still figuring things out, accidents have been minimal, and most importantly, my soul remains intact.
The moral of this long-winded story is this: there are plenty of books and guides written by professionals, and they work wonderfully for many kids. But if they don’t work for yours, it is okay to go rogue. You don’t win a prize for following the plan perfectly while making yourself miserable.
I spent a lot of time feeling discouraged that I couldn’t just follow the book. If I couldn’t potty train my kids “the right way,” what kind of mom was I? Turns out, I’m a better mom when I follow my kids’ leads instead of forcing them down a path that doesn’t fit.
To the moms in the thick of potty training—or gearing up for it—trust yourself. You’ve got this.
