T picked out Return of the Jedi to watch while I got C down, and he asked for two more minutes when I came downstairs. I told him no problem. When I went to collect him I saw that he'd peed on the couch. In two places.
He did it yesterday for the first time in a week. He wasn't angry at me, rather he was mad that his brother touched his collection of diggers. You guys rock and the advice you gave me on the facebook link was especially amazing. Thank you times a million. I didn't lose my cool yesterday, didn't let him see me sweat. I clearly told him if he did it again he would have to wear diapers duct taped on. I made him continue to sit on the couch for a few minutes. And I asked if he wanted to do time out on the stairs with me sitting next to him or in his room. He opted for the stairs, so I sat with him. All things considered, I thought it went really well.
Today I let him turn off the TV (his ritual) and took him upstairs where I grabbed a pull up and the duct tape (We tape them to the diaper, obviously not to his skin. If we didn't do this he'd just pull the diaper off). When he understood what was going to happen he lost his shit. Like major huge awful tantrum. I let him cry, I told him he was being punished for peeing and I understood he was upset, punishments are really upsetting. I didn't get angry, but I told him he was allowed to be angry. This went on for about 20 minutes. He begged to go to the bathroom the whole time. I told him he was free to go in the diaper. He doesn't do extended tantrums, so I started to second guess myself. Even though he'd just peed I worried he'd hurt himself from holding it. So I told him we could go to the bathroom, but he'd have to have a diaper on again afterwards.
After he peed, and he really had to force himself to do it (I shouldn't have worried-his bladder was pretty empty) he asked for a diaper rather than a pull up. I told him to wait in his room and I'd run downstairs to get one. When I returned to his room that little fucker had managed to squeeze a few drops of pee onto his bed. Somehow I managed not to freak out all over him. I told him that was fine, I wasn't changing the sheets, he could sleep in the pee or on the floor. And I wrestled him into the diaper and footie PJs on backwards. He begged me to change the sheets and I told him no and left.
Back downstairs I listened to him melt down and tried to call Z, but couldn't reach him. Thankfully my sister picked up when I called her. She couldn't talk because of work, but she listened anyway. I told her I couldn't fucking do this. His reaction to the situation was so outrageous that I felt like I was damaging him for life. She said all the right things and she just listened. After I got off the phone I went back up and offered to lie down with him for a few minutes. He was asleep within 5.
There are days when I feel like I have no fucking idea what I am doing here. I think I am inflicting huge damage on him, I feel totally clueless, I feel like the whole SAHM thing is a terrible idea, they'd do better in day care. I feel useless and hopeless and frustrated as hell. At T's parent teacher conference last Tuesday his teacher told us he was more emotionally mature than his classmates, that he was able to recognize when the other kids were upset and he was also able to articulate his own feelings. So what the fuck is going on with the peeing on the sofa? I just don't get it.
Drinking from the sprinkler about an hour before peeing on the sofa.
My fabulous sister-in-law was in town this weekend with her lovely wife. Obviously, she the rest of the photos are her work.
This one cracks me up.
We look like such a normal family here...
Sorry if this is riddled with typos, got to get to that massage. Hopefully it'll help put me right. Frankly, the blog venting is already helping. Thanks for indulging me by reading, friends.