Connor, on the other hands, likes to let it all hang out (figuratively and literally). He's not one for over analyzing something. He invites the entire world to feel his pain. My eardrums feel his pain. Then his bottom feels a disproportionate portion of his pain.
The good news is that he's happy in the same way: passionately. In fact, he pretty much throws himself whole-heartedly into everything. It's not that he doesn't KNOW he shouldn't be climbing over the fence. He's been disciplined for it before. He just wants SO badly to get to the horses. Or up the ladder to the top of the house. Or across the ninth hole to get to the pond. Or off the deep end to get to the water. Never mind the hooves, the height, the flying golf ball or the times I've already fished him out of the pool.
It's scary parenting a fearless and strong-willed child. It's also frustrating. What's helped me the most emotionally is something planted in my heart as I prayed over him one night. I always thank God for the children, for the good plan he has for their lives. But this night, as I bowed over Connor, I thanked God for making Connor exactly as he is. I thanked God for my son's energy, his passion, his determination. For I realized if God has a plan for Connor -- a plan to prosper him -- then he also equipped Connor with exactly the set of characteristics necessary to fulfill that plan. Knowing this has been immensely freeing. I don't spend time now (well, not much) wondering why he's this way or that way.
But what about the post title?
Imagine, if you will, a young boy who hadn't -- as far as his mother could determine -- had a bowel movement in near-on on a week. I've no formal medical training, but I'm fairly sure this is a bad thing, which could result in an explosion of some sort. Or, worse, a very unfriendly visit to a doctor which could scar a boy for life ... or a doctor.
On Thursday, I gave Connor a dose of Milk of Magnesia ("Comfortable, cramp-free relief. More like nature intended.") It's cherry flavored. He took it easily and announced, "It's good. It makes poopy come outta my hiney." That's the general idea. So we wait.
Fast forward to Saturday. Still nothin'. By this time, the kids and I are out-of-town visiting family. I ask my Mammaw for some Milk of Magnesia, which she has because at her age, she's collected enough pharmaceuticals to shame Merck. He gets another dose. (And, yes, I said "Mammaw.")
Moving on to Sunday. No results. Connor gets another dose in the morning. That afternoon, he has so much fun playing with cousins, he does the pee-pee dance a little too long and wets himself. At this point, I don't have any more clean clothes for him, so I find a pair of shorts and, after drying him off, send him off commando.
We return home several hours later and, with my husband now in tow, go quickly to our church's recreational building where, with much help, I began transforming a Sunday School room into an Arctic scene, complete with covered walls, snow, an igloo and a mountain. (Only took six-and-a-half FUN-FILLED hours.) In the midst of hanging snowflakes, my husband walked in to inform me Connor would be needing fresh clothes. And a bath. Oh, and a mop might be handy.
It was then that I remembered the poor little thing, having been given three adult-sized doses of Milk of Magnesia and THEN set loose to play, still didn't have underwear on.
And Ground Zero ... my sweet lord. The horror. The horror.
I don't care what the bottle said. It was NOT like nature intended.
Fortunately, Connor had made it into the restroom. And -- yes! -- there was a shower in there. So we got him cleaned up and covered in an adult XL camp T-shirt in no time. Still there's no doubt: This incident totally trumps the time I said the sucker would kill him.
Loading your constipated son up with a laxative for days and then sending him to play without underwear: priceless.
-30-
11 comments:
I know it wasn't funny to y'all - but it sure was funny to me. Of course I'm in the beginning stages of potty training a three year old, so I need to hear other people's poop stories so that I don't feel quite so lonely on this diaper-free journey.
And girl, I say "Mamaw," too. Proudly. :-) Rock on.
You gotta give 'im credit for making it to the bathroom. I know adults that might not have made it in time. Me, possibly... ;-) Hope he's not too traumatized by the experience and feeling regular again, LOL. Heck, I hope YOU'RE not too traumatized, LOL. :-)
Hee, hee that was too funny! Still, gotta wonder if that wasn't near as traumatizing as a visit to the dr. would have been! Yee-Ow!
Sounds like you're doing Arctic Edge for your VBS. We are too. Why don't you just mail me all of your room decorations and then I won't have to attempt to be creative myself in a few weeks! ;-)
Oh, Toni!!! I love your Connor stories. He cracks me up. I can't believe I haven't heard about this one yet.
Your room looks great-the six hours of decorating paid off!! I'm sure we'll have a fun visit there one day this week.
Hysterical! Laughing with you, not at you. Savanna has done that before, only she did it just about 30 seconds before we left for church. We missed that sermon. By the time I changed her and worked on the mess on the living room carpet I needed to reshower!
Your room looks great! I appreciate the effort put into the room as well as the lesson.
Poor kid! At least he made it to the bathroom. I hope he's all better now.
Okay, Toni, I want to say this is such a touching post. And it is, but--well, you know it's also kind of gross as well.
BTW, Madeline has a year on Caleb, but I definitely think he can play her game. I am regularly told that "I am making him mean." "I am making him to not ever want to be encouraging." etc.
Pretty sure this is going to be one of those stories that he gets to hear over family holiday dinners, etc. My gosh, bet you guys were running the hot water at your house, and a little Lever 2000 to boot for those 2000 body parts that likely were within firing range! It'll be funny - someday - a long time from now.
If this helps you feel not so alone in your poo-crisis, while we were at my pastor's house several years ago my son dirtied his last diaper. The pastor's twin daughters put him (my son, not the pastor!) in a pair of small gym shorts, sans diaper. He wasn't potty trained and peed right onto the family's large, expensive Oriental rug. Twice. Right in front of all of us. I still haven't quite recovered! ;)
Well, that was hysterical. I guess the time that Alexa pooped in her bathing suit (with no swim diaper) at Gwen's house with me running through the house yelling, "NNNOOOOO!!!" is no longer quite as good as your story.
I needed to read the first part of this post b/c I often wonder the same things about my first. I needed to read the second part b/c it was just plain funny.
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