I didn't panic when my husband took a military job in Alabama on short notice and left me to go it alone. I'm made of sterner stuff. My mom was a single parent. If she could do it, so could I.
During the first couple of months, I lived through a broken furnace, the deaths of my washer and dryer, and the hospitalization of one of my children. Did I panic? No.Many months later, I realize I can do almost everything my husband can. Almost. There's still one skill that eludes me: How do I teach my little boy to stand up to "go potty"?
Despite my best attempts, I find myself incapable of demonstrating just how to master this particular skill. If anyone tells you that men and women are equal, send them to me, and I'll set them straight: We're equal but definitely different.
Being an extremely logical person, I quickly reasoned if I couldn't provide the appropriate training, then I would need help - David needed to watch another male accomplish the feat.
My next problem was to find a suitable candidate for the job. I toyed with the idea of running a classified ad: "Male wanted. Must be toilet trained and able to aim straight. Little boy needs to see how it's done." But I decided against it. After all, I didn't want to turn over my son to someone I didn't know and trust for such an important educational experience.
So far I had already ruled out all women (they faced the same limitations I did), males I didn't know and trust, and all males who lacked the necessary expertise. Who was left? There was no getting around it - I would have to ask some male friends.
I couldn't be too pushy. Tact and discretion were called for. "Hi, Jim. How are you doing? I wonder if you could help me with something - I need you to take David to the bathroom and show him how it's done. There's no hurry, whenever you happen to have the time."
No takers.
It occurred to me I was not approaching the problem from the correct angle. If I couldn't demonstrate myself what I wanted done, then I needed to provide some kind of incentive to encourage the desired behavior.
Luckily, a knowledgeable friend came up with a marvelous idea. All I needed to do was to throw a handful of Cheerios into the toilet and tell David that he could sink them if he aimed just right. Such intricate aiming would, of course, require him to stand up.
Unfortunately, what works well in theory doesn't always work well in practice. I stood a little step-up chair in front of the toilet and threw in the o's. David stood up, looked at me and asked, "Why are you throwing my breakfast in the potty?"
"So you can sink it," I replied.
"But I want to eat it," he countered.
That was the end of that idea.
Next came the bubbles. Actually my mother-in-law came up with this one. I thought about it. Yes, it definitely had possibilities, and it didn't require cereal. A definite plus.
David likes bubbles. He likes to blow them, pop them and bathe in them, so why not have him make them? I broached the subject. "Dave, would you like to make bubbles when you go potty?"
"OK, let's go," he enthused.
This was too easy; there had to be a hitch. We went to the bathroom. David positioned himself in front of toilet, took aim and made bubbles. It worked. My son could stand up to go to the bathroom.
I breathed a sigh of relief and mentally patted myself on the back. Another obstacle expertly negotiated by Supermom. NOT.
The very next day, I found David once again sitting down to do his duty. "Dave, why aren't you standing up to go potty?" I demanded.
"I don't want to," he said.
"Don't you want to make bubbles?" I queried.
"No," he replied.
That was the end of that.
I wonder how Murphy Brown is going to deal with this situation. Maybe she can give me some pointers.
The Deseret News welcomes comments from readers on this topic or others pertinent to the Single-minded column. Please address letters to Single-minded, c/o Marianne Funk, Deseret News, P.O. Box 1257, Salt Lake City, UT 84110; or contact her or the writer of the column at 237-2100.