Earlier today, I decided that the 7-day streak (heh-heh, streak) of Adriana not pooping would end. It had to. She was cranky, I was cranky. I got sick yesterday and thought maybe it was because of all the fecal matter I've been exposed to for the last week. Adriana's been having number two issues on and off for almost the entire month of December, and needless to say the hollies are less then jolly when your kid refuses to go on the potty. Her attempts at holding it in made all of us miserable. Not only was she soiling her underwear every hour on the hour, but she was growing increasingly irritable as the days went by. Her whining reached levels that would make Fran Drescher cringe.
So today, after she leaked glitter-sized bits of poop into her bathwater, I drew the line and said I was done living like this. I made her sit on the toilet until she went. I fired expletive after expletive like shrapnel into her bowels, and eventually, after shouting, "If you get off that toilet before taking a shit, you're dead!," she went. "I don't wanna be dead!," she cried, and dropped a pickle-sized poop in the pool.
Now, as any parent can attest, when your kid is going through a troubling phase, you'll try anything to make it end. Any advice, any procedure. I tried ignoring it, I tried forcing her to sit on the toilet, I tried coddling her, I gave her mineral oil and enemas, extra water, no dairy, gummy laxatives, I yelled, I sympathized, I reasoned and I pleaded. I bribed her with manicures and makeup. I even curled her hair in the hopes that it would inspire her to let one go.
I put eyeshadow on her lids, blush on her cheeks and lip gloss on her lips. Surely, I thought, little JonBenet did not give her mother these problems. So there she was, in her brand-new jeans and t-shirt gifted to her at Christmas. Two seconds after I took this picture, she not only pooped herself, she peed. On sequined denim. I shudder to imagine her college years. I only hope someone will hold her hair back. It took a long time to curl.
This afternoon, as her reward for finally marqueing el numero dos, she got to wear another new Christmas outfit, replete with ladies white gloves, jewels and a fancy hairdo, courtesy of the TopsyTail my Aunt Kathy sent. She even got a dollar from my mother to add to her Disney World fund.
Is she just adorable? Like Pinkalicious come to life! Except in the underwear department. An hour after I took these pictures, the prairie dog reared its ugly head once more (heh-heh, reared) and left its mark. Here's to hoping 2010 brings an end (heh-heh, end) to this torture. Heh-heh? Thud.
So today, after she leaked glitter-sized bits of poop into her bathwater, I drew the line and said I was done living like this. I made her sit on the toilet until she went. I fired expletive after expletive like shrapnel into her bowels, and eventually, after shouting, "If you get off that toilet before taking a shit, you're dead!," she went. "I don't wanna be dead!," she cried, and dropped a pickle-sized poop in the pool.
Now, as any parent can attest, when your kid is going through a troubling phase, you'll try anything to make it end. Any advice, any procedure. I tried ignoring it, I tried forcing her to sit on the toilet, I tried coddling her, I gave her mineral oil and enemas, extra water, no dairy, gummy laxatives, I yelled, I sympathized, I reasoned and I pleaded. I bribed her with manicures and makeup. I even curled her hair in the hopes that it would inspire her to let one go.
I put eyeshadow on her lids, blush on her cheeks and lip gloss on her lips. Surely, I thought, little JonBenet did not give her mother these problems. So there she was, in her brand-new jeans and t-shirt gifted to her at Christmas. Two seconds after I took this picture, she not only pooped herself, she peed. On sequined denim. I shudder to imagine her college years. I only hope someone will hold her hair back. It took a long time to curl.
This afternoon, as her reward for finally marqueing el numero dos, she got to wear another new Christmas outfit, replete with ladies white gloves, jewels and a fancy hairdo, courtesy of the TopsyTail my Aunt Kathy sent. She even got a dollar from my mother to add to her Disney World fund.
Is she just adorable? Like Pinkalicious come to life! Except in the underwear department. An hour after I took these pictures, the prairie dog reared its ugly head once more (heh-heh, reared) and left its mark. Here's to hoping 2010 brings an end (heh-heh, end) to this torture. Heh-heh? Thud.
8 comments:
Wow Carolyn that is quite a story. I have 2 kids, one almost 4 and the other 8, and haven't experienced this at all. Have you tried threatening to put her back in diapers...or is that what she wants? In which case you obviously can't cave. I know the conventional advice says not to put a kid back into diapers once they're potty training, but sometimes you just need to save your own sanity. It sounds like this is a power struggle, big time. Wish I had better advice to offer....
The "experts" recommend not threatening to put them back in diapers - tho of course I have. She doesn't want to wear diapers, but she is wearing one right now. This is totally a power struggle, which is why it's so frustrating. I don't really understand the purpose. Hopefully it'll end soon...
Ugh Carolyn. That sounds tiring. Hang in there. I'm sure you'll both come through it soon.
Thanks, Randi. I hope so! It is tiring. That's probably the worst part. It's not the poop in and of itself - it's the constant struggle. She let out a huge mess in the diaper she was wearing this eve, so maybe she's one step closer to being regular!
pickle-sized poop!
hahahahahaha
miss adriana and i have something in common: i don't poop much these days either thanks to a little thing called being knocked up...
You even brought out the mip-mop? I guess you tried everything I would have tried except for the Vulcan grip. Or taunting for being a baby.
Here's to getting old enough to be embarrassed about your behaviour! Shame was a big tactic in my family.
Dilemma...on the one hand, threatening to put your child back in diapers, as well as spanking, can sometimes inflict them with a bit of a sexual fetish later in life for such things. But on the other hand she might already be a diaper lover or adult bay-er "child baby" I guess would be more apt. Most "adult babies" are either "born that way", with an inherent need-interest in being babied and cared for, or the need arises because of things like attachment disorders (they weren't loved enough as a baby). Doesn't sound like the later is the case with your kid, but she could inherently enjoy being babied.
If that's the case then I wouldn't recommend trying to "force" her out of it or try to "correct" her, because there's nothing to correct and you're only going to make hers and your lives miserable by trying.
You might try simply asking her if she likes wearing diapers. If she says she does then compromise. Teach her that it's "okay" to be a "baby" on occasion, as a form of stress relief and/or play but make sure she understands that she can't be a baby *ALL* the time and she can't go around advertising the interest because most people will simply not understand and would likely make fun of her and be very cruel.
If she does indeed have such interests don't try to suppress them or force her out of it because you'll just screw her all up in the head later in life, to the point that she may want to be a "baby" all the time when she's an adult, even if it interferes with "having a life" so to speak. Plus she'll likely resent you for it...a *LOT*.
Adult babies are actually fairly common, about 1% of the entire population has pronounced adult baby tendencies, some more so than others. It can take *MANY* forms as well. Some just like sucking on a pacifier or their thumb, some like just like wearing a diaper, some like playing baby, some like watching children's cartoons, or coloring, etc, etc.
It can even be argued that every single person on the planet has the inherent potential to be an adult baby on some level and that it's essentially a good form of stress relief, no matter what form you choose. Trying to deny, ignore or suppress those feelings, in whatever form, is only going to *CAUSE* stress.
The important thing of course, as I said, is that you find a balance, that your need for infantile tendencies, in whatever form, doesn't wind up over taking your life to the point where you can't really have one anymore.
If that happens, if one reaches the point where they want to act like a baby *ALL* the time, especially if it's of direct detriment to their ability to take their of themselves, pay the bills, hold a job, etc...yeah, that's when it becomes an actual psychological problem that needs to be addressed.
On the flip side though it's also just as likely, if not more so, that she doesn't like wearing diapers and there's some other psychological reason as to why she doesn't want to go in the toilet. Said reason may be really abstract or may not make any sense to you as an adult, but to a child it may seem very real. For example she could think of her poop as being apart of herself and flushing it down the toilet is like flushing a part of herself away. Or maybe she went number two on the toilet and got water splashed on her bottom when she "plopped" so to speak, which she may have interpreted as some kind of "poop eating monster" that lives in the toilet.
Needless to say, there are a whole slew of potential reasons for her behavior and the best means of trying to figure out what's really going on is to talk to her about it and make sure she understands that it's okay to talk to you about such things and that you're not going to get angry or upset because of what she says.
So what does her pediatrician say? I had a friend who's kid did this til they all went to kindergarten and I'm not sure when he stopped because I lost touch with her. It's called encopresis. I only know this because I myself am dealing with issues with my 13 year old. She leaves her poop in the toilet constantly or if she has an accident or streak in her undies she just wads them up and puts them in her dresser or something. The same with feminine pads. It's totally disgusting.
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