Pull-ups Be Gone

Let's get one thing straight. I don't do pull-ups. I don't like them; I think they're too much like a diaper, and the things are expensive. Instead when my kids reach 18 months, they're usually interested in the potty, and so we spend a lot of time in the bathroom doing what they like to do while sitting on the potty chair. One child would only sit there if she had the Reader's Digest to hold, one would sit there forever if we sang songs together, and with one child we would roll a ball back and forth to each other while he waited for the potty to come. My sister says that I had it too easy, since my three oldest were potty trained by the age of 2 (or a few months after it) including bed time. I agree. They had there accidents, and I had my frustrations with the training, but they got it pretty quickly without regressions. I'm not bragging. I don't think I had much to do with it - they just got good genes, which I had nothing to do with. So . . . the fact that I had to resort to pull-ups 3 years ago, is a painful thought for me. Even more painful (for the family budget, the nearby landfill, and everyone involved) is that the pull-ups have lasted until now. Once he started in school, last August, the pull-ups were used daily, and not just one a day. I got pulled into the prinicipal's office about a month ago to discuss the problem. She had been in the office when James was sent down to the nurse to take care of a #2 problem. They couldn't get ahold of me (the one day I left home to go shopping), they called Erik at work, and finally called my parents to come pick him up from school. I arrived home about the time she did. Funny thing was, he had nothing in there; it was dry as could be, with no skid marks or anything. I don't blame the teacher - in fact I really appreciate her - but the point is the principal got to wondering why a 6 year old was still wearing pull-ups to school. And so I was asked to come in and explain my complex little guy. (June 2005)"Four Glorious Years of This!" I tried to explain how he had been neglected for his first 18 months of life, that he had gotten used to being soiled and wet for days without being changed. I explained that I was working with a psychiatrist to find out why James was having such a hard time concentrating on things. I explained that we were looking at a diagnosis of bi-polar, and that I thought that his bi-polar, which causes him to have a tidal wave of impulses all the time, was preventing him from realizing the need to use the bathroom. I explained that there was no documentation to back up my belief, that it was more of a hunch from dealing with him and the issue for so long. She really didn't want to know any of that. She wasn't very concerned about him or why he was doing what he was doing. She didn't really want to know how his behavior went in cycles, and that for about 4 days every two months, James was not only a pleasant boy to be around but was also dry day and night. She was mainly concerned that I still had him in pull-ups at school where other kids could make fun of him (although nobody has). The whole conversation was pull-ups, pull-ups, pull-ups It didn't matter that I had originally sent him to school in underwear, that he came home everyday absolutely drenched (with nobody noticing), and that I was having panic attacks worrying about the amount of germs being spread there at school. I was so mad. I felt so judged. Did she think that I had given up on him? Did she know the countless hours I had spent in the bathroom with him over the years, the number of motivational talks we had had, the amount of times we as a family prayed for James to be dry, all the sticker charts, Thomas the train charts, marbles in the jar, contests on who could go potty in the toilet the most times in the day, the whole weekends where I would sit in the bathroom with him playing all day long, all the incentives we could think of, not to mention the negative consequences for wetting and soiling - sitting wrapped in a towel until his underwear was washed and dried, having to stay in the bathroom until he cleaned him self up, wrapping a plastic grocery bag around his torso area and having him drive home that way because he had soiled himself at my sister's and had no change of clothes, etc., etc., etc. I don't even want to think about it anymore - the smell, the heartache, and the frustration are all comiing back to me as I write this. The humiliation that we caused him, and the humiliation he caused us are just still too fresh of wounds. So, all of that aside now, it is time to rejoice! It has now officially been 2 weeks since James has worn a pull-up. Two (count them!) 1, 2 glorious weeks. Yes, we have had our share of accidents and purposefully defiant moments. Yes, I'm still doing a lot of laundry. But in those 2 weeks, he has been dry everyday at school. In those two weeks he has willingly (there were a few times it wasn't so willing) gone to the bathroom every time I asked him to. In those two weeks there have been more dry nights than there were wet ones. In those two weeks he has learned to be truthful about his accidents or incidentals instead of lying. What's made the difference? His bi-polar medication. Turns out I was right all along. It turns out that I knew what I was talking about - that in this instance I knew more than the medical community and the educational system. I knew better - not because I am smarter - but simply because I am his MOTHER! When you live with someone each day, and deal with their good and bad moments, you really learn who they are - the whole package. The medical community only sees pieces of him, same with the educators, and anyone else he knows from church, the neighborhood, etc. But the ones who live with him, the ones who love him despite the things that he does that are hard to live with, the ones who see every mood, every expression he makes, they know him best. It just takes awhile to convince the rest of the world to see what it is we see. Heavenly Father definitely knew what he was doing when he instituted families! They are essential for every human being. So, to you James, "Happy Two Week Anniversary! You've been big for a long time, but now you can feel big. We're all so proud of you!" Love, Your Family (September 2005) "Rest, James. It's been a long time coming . . . but you've finally done it!"