Sometimes I Surprise Even Me

*This post is all about my kid going #2, so if you are put-off by that, go read someone else's blog tonight.*

So...I blog a lot about issues with my son. It helps me deal with them. But there is one that I quit discussing years ago because it made me feel like a failure as a mother. When Tristan was three, I potty-trained him. I waited until he was ready and it went well. And then...there were "issues" a year later. Once, he flooded our bathroom with too much poop and toilet paper. I was pregnant with Elisa at the time and very nauseous. To say that I lost it would be an understatement. I'm not sure if it was just that incident or a combination of that and some constipation issues that made Tristan decide to stop pooping on the toilet, but by the time he was five he had completely 'untrained' himself and was refusing to go anymore. His pediatrician gave us Miralax, a specialist spent his half-hour appointment with him just trying to convince him to use the toilet again (I'm glad we have insurance because THAT was money well-spent) and the boy has never had a swimming lesson in his life because I'm too afraid of being the cause of shutting the pool down. In fact, we've never gone to a public pool for that reason. I'm sure it has cost him friends and caused teasing at school. I remember how hurtful it was when one of the members of the Primary Presidency from our old ward told me in her snottiest Molly Mormon accent that "this...issue that he has is just...unacceptable!" My reply was along the lines of "Really? Unacceptable for you to deal with for 45 minutes a week?! Try every day and every night of my life, Hon." And then I asked if our Bishop shared that opinion about it and should I go discuss her attitude towards my son with him. She decided she would rather not have me do that and left me alone about it after that. (But boy did she make a nice big signature on our going away card when we moved to Blanchard.) Which isn't to say that I enjoy smelling him any more than the next person (especially while pregnant) AND I have the added bonus of having to separate and scrub his dirty drawers twice a week. So...it's not like I excuse him, but at the same time, I hate being taken to task as his mother for failing to teach him proper personal hygiene when I DID teach him the right thing to do and he started choosing otherwise no matter what we threatened him with or took away from him.

This has been one of the worst things about being Tristan's mom for the last five years. When you add it all in with his issues at school, the way he tries to treat me and his Dad, the way he melts down in public and at family gatherings, and the way strangers and well-meaning friends give me all kinds of lovely advice about how to deal with him...it's a lot on any given day and especially on a day like today. I have been pondering since summer started what would motivate him the most to sit on the toilet. For most kids, it's books-but Tristan doesn't read those. Who knew my best flash of inspiration would come in one of my worst parenting moments since school let out and I started staying home? Today, I snapped...but apparently in a good way.

This afternoon, I found myself at Wal-Mart grabbing a full-slip for Natalie that she "HAD" to have for rehearsal (but did not tell me about until today), buying yet more Tylenol for Elisa who has some kind of mild summer virus that she's playing to the hilt, and dealing with her whining and Tristan and Caroline's bickering and grabbing the cart while I was trying to push it. Have I mentioned that I'm 35 weeks pregnant and that it hurts to walk now? Because that's part of the equation too. Anyway, I finally had to separate them and had one walk on each side of the basket. When I got to the check-out counter, Tristan began one of his favorite tricks of wedging himself between the cart and the conveyer belt in a way that forces me to unload my items on at a time. I told him to move and he started to, then he threw himself right in that perfect in-between spot and said in his most sarcastic voice: "I can't move Mom, I HAVE to stay away from Caroline." I wanted to kill him. The look on my face said as much and I think the cute little college cashier wanted to call DHS on me just for the way I grabbed him and jerked him out of the way. (And to give props where they are due, the little old lady behind me saw the whole thing and was on MY side.) While she eyed me suspiciously and rang up my groceries, I told Tristan I would need his Nintendo DS for the rest of the day. Being Tristan, he threw a ginormous tantrum all the way to the car. And as we got to the car...I got an idea...an idea worthy of the Grinch himself...

I told Tristan that from now until he resolved his "issue," the only time he would be allowed to as much as touch his DS was when he was sitting on the toilet trying to go poop and that he would not get it back permanently until I no longer had two loads of stinky drawers to scrub out every week. Needless to say, he hated me for most of the day. But guess who has made two of the most sincere attempts to go potty in the last several years since dinner? He actually asked for Miralax about an hour ago. I'm not sure how long it will take before we see more successes and a permanent habit come from this, but I've got no problem holding onto his DS until I believe that the change is for real. And who knows, I may become so attached to it that I buy it from him for that last $50 he needs to upgrade to a DSi?...But don't tell him that. I want him to do this for himself as much as possible.

Trading DS privilages for pooping on the potty-who knew? Thank goodness we don't have any upcoming road trips, though...