Take for instance, my little Lovey. In two days he was completely potty trained. Easy. Peasy. *screeeech* Hold up. Then came the dreaded #2. I assumed it would be just as easy and seamless, because once Izzy understood one, he understood the other and he was potty trained in 4 days. After 4 days at home, I could take him anywhere and he never had a single accident. Lovey, however, is a mule. His stubbornness and will power can not be tamed. There is no currency large or shiny enough to entice my mule and he has decided he doesn't like poop. I said it, it's out there now. He believes that if he holds it long enough, the problem will just go away. We can't talk about it, ever. If you do, it is a catastrophe of epic proportions. He turns red, starts to sweat and shakes a little. He gets really nervous and then cries, "NO Mommy, No! I scared! I scared!" When he starts sweating and crying, then I start sweating and want to cry too. Why is this hard?
Last week, he had made himself so sick by holding it, he literally was turning yellow, had a low grade fever, and couldn't stand up or sit down. Late one night, I had to do what I had been trying to avoid-suppository time. Ugh, it is just as horrible and traumatic as you imagine. It is torture!!!! My sweet baby who is sick and in pain needs to feel better, but the one thing that can bring instant relief is just so awful. He looked at me with his big brown eyes and BEGGED me to not do it. But, being the Mommy, I knew I had no choice. Within seconds, it worked and while I held my sweaty, hysterical baby on the toilet, I finally let it out and cried with him. I felt so sad that he was in pain and so sad that he doesn't understand he can make it so much easier on himself. Since then we have had to replay that situation 3 times. Every time has been just as awful and just as quick as it is all over, he is a new boy, happy and well.
Then it happened....
I taught in his class at church today and I noticed he just wanted to lie on the rug and read books and a few times he asked if we could go home. Not big signs to anyone else, but Ash is OBSESSED with church. He asks me every day if it is "Church Day" and when it finally is Sunday morning, he rushes me to get ready so we can hurry up and get there. So when he asked to go home, I knew what the problem was. The dreaded #2 was up to no good. I did a lot of self talk on the ride home from church today. "You can do this. It will be 30 minutes of torture for a day of a happy boy. DO. NOT CRY." I'll be honest, it is heartbreaking and gross. Not how I want to spend any moment of my weekend. When I asked him to come to my room, he knew exactly what was going on and started to fuss. Then it got louder, and he got red...and sweaty. I decided to just try without any medicine and while he fought me the whole way, it finally happened. He was able to go without any help and that is a HUGE accomplishment. You have to understand that this kid is newly trained, and has held it through the night and until NOON before without peeing one time because he didn't want any poop to come out. Do you know how small a 3 year olds bladder is? OMW I didn't think it was physically possible, but he willed it to be. So the fact that he went without help is so major in my life right now, while gross and possible TMI, it deserved a spot on the blog. There is bound to be more crying and sweating over this issue, but I will take it if it means he is learning how to listen to his body's cues and follow through. Some day we will look back and laugh about this and I will remind him that this is just one of many reasons why it is his turn to take such good care of me.
Then, there is my Bobo. Izzy has been working so hard this week and some of the things he was struggling with he has made BIG improvements and I am so proud of him. It is a hard transition from non-stop vacations this summer back to our non-stop school schedule. It took a couple of weeks, but he is in full swing now and instead of being down about all the responsibilities he has, he is looking in a more positive light and working hard to earn rewards at home and at school. So glad it clicked! My Bobo is growing so fast and it is ripping my heart out. He is 6 and almost as tall as his teacher. Not joking. Last week they measured, and he said, "I am as tall as my teachers neck!" He is up to my shoulders already and I fear that by second grade he could be taller than me. That is going to make discipline difficult. :) Izzy is wearing a size 4 shoe and size 10 pants. People: TEN. Like for 10 years old!!! I can't handle this. In the midst of PoopGate:2011, he informed me he has his first wiggly tooth. Of course you do, next you will be shaving and picking out a corsage for Prom. If you know me, I am not a "body" person. (can you tell from my earlier story?) I don't like blood, or gross things. The thought of pulling my son's tooth makes me want to throw up. What did I do? I told him, his tooth will fall out when it is ready and to just let it happen naturally. Why might I say that? Well, lets go back to the 80's, shall we? Back in the day, my Mom, who is the complete opposite of myself-loves all things bloody and disgusting, tied all of my loose teeth to my bedroom door and slammed it. I watched as my baby teeth flew across the room and I wailed as blood poured from my wounded mouth. (Dramatic? Probably, but let me have my memories.) My mom found a weird delight in this. She could barely contain herself until my next tooth was loose, so she could do it again! This is why, I can't handle my baby losing his tooth. I don't want anything to do with it and I have already warned him of Grandma's weird love for pulling teeth and to steer clear of her in this time of his life.
Tonight, he complained that his tooth was hurting while eating an apple, so I sliced it for him, and just thought it is getting close to falling out. No big deal. Baths and bedtime, and as I am kissing him goodnight, I ask to see his wiggly tooth and he says, "MOM I have 4 teeth!" He opens up and I find 2 adult teeth have popped up behind his soon to be gone baby teeth. I. could. cry.
I had made peace with that first baby tooth leaving the nest that is his mouth, but really 2 at a time and the flippin' adult teeth can't give me a month of mental transition time? Come ON! Tomorrow, I am calling the pediatric dentist for a visit. I have a feeling it might be another situation where I am holding a red, sweaty boy on a chair.
And again I say, being a Mom is hard, yo!
Side note: Pray for beautiful adult teeth for sweet Izzy. So far, they are looking good. But we don't need any of this...
Word to your mother! LOL
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