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| Aah, back in the early days of this adventure |
Here's the history on this morning's incident, or actually, set of 3 incidents:
Potty training. We started out with high hopes of a quick, intense, weekend-long session when the little guy was barely 2 years old. My mom lent me the book that she had used, Potty Training in One Day (or some equally BS title), and assured me she had used this method with all 6 of the kids in our family. She bragged that she potty-trained my younger brother the latest, at 26 months of age, and he caught on the quickest; about a day and a half. I read through the book, made a sticker chart, filled a Tupperware container with M&Ms, and looked forward to Saturday.
Epic fail. We gave up by Saturday afternoon and decided we'd try again in a few months. Well, about a month later, my mom informed me that she was working on it with him again. Being the potty training guru, she was so sure that he was really ready this time. Fast forward about a year and a half: we have been on a roller coaster of "I think he really has it this time!" and "What?!? He pooped his pants again?!?" over and over. We have let him run around pants-less, we have tried rewards, we have lectured him, pleaded with him, tried to make it no big deal either way... and here we are today.
Many days, he has maybe one wet accident. And many of those are minor accidents. Occasionally, he will go a week or two with no accidents at all. But lately, it's been the regular one or two wet accidents per day. This morning, he had done a number two in his pull-up that he wears overnight. I calmly took him to the bathroom, let him know that I was disappointed and that I know he'll do better next time, and helped him get cleaned up. He was insistent that he didn't need to go anymore and refused to sit on the potty. A couple hours later, I walked into his bedroom after putting the baby down for a nap in his crib... and there he is, putting his poopy unders in the laundry basket! I was a little more firm this time, a little more, "this makes me angry that you did this. You are a big boy and you know what you need to do when you need to go." What to do?
Historically (as in, the past year and a half), it is times like these that I question my parenting, that I wonder what I am doing that is so wrong, (or conversely, what I am not doing) that is causing my child to do this. I know it's probably some sort of a control issue or a power struggle for my independent little guy. But I can't help to think, what the hell is wrong with me? Should I just not have had kids? Obviously, I can't get the basics down, after 1.5 years of trying. All his little friends, many of whom are a few months younger, have been loooooong potty trained. No. I did not want to go down this road today. It has been quite a while since he's had a number two accident, and I feel much better not freaking out about these things. But again... what to do? I have to somehow use this experience to let him know that it is not okay, and I DON'T want him to do it again. I don't want to employ my usual method-- "that's too bad. Better get into the bathroom and get cleaned up, then find a clean pair of underpants." The no-big-deal method. Because pooping in your pants is a big deal. I want the lesson to stick this time.
I didn't mean to be punitive, but I didn't want to have another mess to clean up at the indoor playground where we were planning to meet a friend soon. I decided to make him sit on the potty until he went or until he could tell me why he went in his pants. This also gave me time to tidy up the house and to go downstairs and talk myself out of getting angry at him or myself. Ultimately, he couldn't go and he couldn't tell me why he did it, so we wiped up and got ready for our playdate. I am typically such a grudge-holder, but I can't allow myself to hold onto these things with my sons. I don't want them to find themselves in therapy someday, wondering why their mom was such a cold, hard, bitch.
And I didn't want to have one of those regretful moments in parenting. You know what I'm talking about. You spank your kid even though you're totally against it, or you yell at him, or call him a name. You overreact to something, and your child cries at your meanness. Then he asks you to lay next to him after the bedtime song, and you think... how could I ever be so horrible to this little person?
Anyway, this post is getting really long, but I did say there were three incidents. After playing with our friend, we were on our way to get pizza for lunch. He told me he needed to pee, so I pulled into the closest neighborhood and found a large shrub we could hide next to for a quick pee. His unders were already soaked, and when I asked him if he just wet them, he told me that he did it at the playground. I turned the car around, no pizza, and took him home for lunch and nap ASAP. Minimal lecturing or yelling and only a little bit of questioning my parenting skills. Then I found that my dog had been through the kitchen garbage and I really started yelling. I even yelled at the baby, "Oh, look at you! You're sweet now, but you'll be just like your big brother in a couple years! What the hell was I ever thinking?!!"
Oops... well... I'm sure he's too young to commit that to memory. He was smiling at me the whole time I was yelling.
