Well, you know not many people talk about it, but everyone has to do it..sooner or later we were all potty trained.
Apparently I undertook this training when I was eighteen months old in March of 1953.
My potty chair was in the kitchen..next to the door that went upstairs. I seem to be quite proud of myself. No screaming, only a big smile! My doll must have been keeping me company.
There were four doors off the big old farm kitchen. The first a door to the front porch, the second door to the living room where the rocking chair was and all the plants were on a stand in the east window and where the big old heat register was in the floor where I loved to sit and get warm. My tiny bedroom and my parents bedroom were both off of the living room in the old house. The third was the door to upstairs. We never used upstairs..flies were in the tall windows and the shades were torn, the curtain rods were crooked and the curtains were threadbare and each room had different linoleum on the floor and a different wallpaper on the walls. The steps going up had been painted white and so was the railing upstairs. My Grandpa and one of my Uncles slept up there one time during harvest..but other than that we didn’t use it..and we were not allowed up there to play either. Finally the fourth door to the big old room where my Mother kept boxes of stuff and where clothes were kept, and sometimes where we took a bath in a metal tub if we didn’t go to sauna. It was always cold in that room. Later in 1959 or 1960 that room was remodeled to make a bathroom and a sewing room.
The outhouse..was just that out..in the yard…it was a cold, cold place in the winter, and a smelly place in the summer, where flies would crawl on your bare butt if you sat too long.
Sometimes we had toilet paper..sometimes not. Peach papers were pure heaven and my favorite kind of papers. Newspaper worked ok too..I didn’t like the catalogues…too slippery. We did not have a chamber pot or what my Mother called a “piss pot” in the house either…if we had to go..we went out to the outhouse. Oh, what a luxury it was to go to the bathroom at school, the only down side was that you couldn’t read in the bathroom at school.
I still like to read in the bathroom. We have a whole basket full of reading material in our bathroom. I am a short sitter compared to my other baby brother who lives next door. If he is in the bathroom..it could take him a whole hour..sometimes if we go to see him and he is in the bathroom we ask “How long has he been in there?”..so we know how long we will have to wait, or if we are better off coming back later.
I was nine years old before we got a bathroom indoors. To me an indoor bathroom is a luxury, I know not many people think of it that way anymore, but if you are part of the “outhouse generation” you will understand what I mean:)