A few weeks ago I did something that might have unexpected consequences down the road. Granted, ANYTHING I do could end up being the lynchpin event for one or the other of my kids' debilitating neuroses. Some simple phrase or action might inexplicably stick in their heads and utterly shape the way they think about everything through the years. Such is the responsibility of being a parent, and it is one that I grapple with on nearly a daily basis. But it's something that I've discussed before in this forum so I won't belabor that point any further.
However, I might have set something in motion that is one of these very lynchpin moments, so it's worth discussing the specific event and how it's playing out right now, if for no other reason than it will make it easier for Gabe to trace his problems back to this specific event and very accurately point his finger at me and shout "YOU!" as he crumbles to the floor, broken and terrified, recognizing how his whole life spiraled out of control and it was me pushing the plunger down on the toilet.
Kind of ironically. Or literally? Well, metaphorically, but with some literal irony, maybe?
Whatever.
It has to do with poop.
One night, as I was changing Norah's diaper for the umpteenth time of the day, we were discussing potty training. We often do this in the hopes of spurring in Norah the drive to tackle some sort of bathroom-using transition. While she is perfectly capable of going on the pot (if we catch her starting to squat and move her to the toilet immediately she will go there), she has ZERO interest in telling us that she needs to go before she does, so potty training has been a complete non-starter for us with her. But I'm not feeling all that rushed just yet. Gabe didn't really get going until his third birthday, so I'll put off the panicking until then for Norah.
Anyway, as we discussed potty training, Gabe pointed out "I don't wear diapers. Diapers are for babies."
"Ah," I said, sounding sage and wise, "But you used to. You wore diapers for three full years. And I still have to followup wipe just about every time you poop to make sure you got it all."
"Yeah, but I don't wear diapers," he insisted.
"But you did."
"No, YOU wear the stinky diapers."
"No, YOU wear the stinky diapers," I cleverly countered. And this went back and forth a few times because these are the kinds of debates you can have with a four year old.
Eventually, I changed tack somewhat and said, "You know, since you wore diapers for three years and Norah will wear diapers for three years, you two owe your mother and I three years of diaper changes."
Because this theorizing was less than pithy, Gabe gave me a kind of confused look.
"I changed your diapers for three years, so that means YOU have to change MY diapers for three years! And Norah can change Momma's diapers for three years."
This seemed more than fair, really. Let's face it, I've changed at least 80% of the diapers in the last four and a half years, but I'm willing to give her a 50/50 split, because I'm a great person.
Gabe turned a serious look on me. He didn't like the sound of this plan.
"But I don't know how to change diapers," he replied, thinking that would clear him of all responsibilities.
"I don't wear diapers right now," I pointed out. "So you don't have anything to change right now. Plus, you can't wipe your own butt very well just yet, so I would rather wait until you can get me nice and clean before I have you changing my diapers."
"But I'm only FOUR," he insisted. "I can't change diapers!"
"I know. And I'm not planning on wearing them for a while yet. How about when you're older? Maybe when you're all grown up? Then you can change my diapers for three years?"
He considered this briefly, then he said something that I think he's really come to regret. "When I am nineteen years old, I will change your diapers for three years."
I nodded slowly. "OK. That seems fair. I might not NEED to wear diapers yet by that point. But it might be kind of nice to have responsibility for bathroom activities taken over by someone else for awhile. It will be like a vacation."
"But grown-ups don't wear diapers," he pointed out, still trying to get out of it.
"Some grown ups DO have to wear diapers. But even if I don't, you owe me three years of diaper changes, and I want to make sure you get to experience changing diapers. So I might wear diapers for three years whether I need to or not."
He seemed to process this, but then quickly started jumping around or acting otherwise spazzy, and I thought that was that on the subject. Just another silly thing we talk about because I bring up probably inappropriate subject matter with the kids all the time. It's kind of my thing.
But it wasn't, and it hasn't been. In fact, he's brought it up quite a bit over the past few weeks. Sometimes when he sees me changing Norah's diaper, it will trigger something and he'll ask about having the change my diapers. Sometimes when he's pooping it will trigger something and he'll ask about it. Sometimes, quite out of nowhere, he'll ask about it. We were driving to the grocery store the other morning and he asked, "Do I REALLY have to change your diapers for three years when I turn nineteen?"
He's been just a tiny bit obsessed with it, to be honest. And I suppose I can't blame him. If I had three years of adult diaper changes to look forward to--at a definite point in my future (and especially if I had any concept of what life would be like as a nineteen year old, when changing adult diapers would be about the most terrible thing in the world)--I might be obsessing a bit over it, too.
So far, when he's asked, I've been reluctant to let him off the hook by saying something along the lines of "Naw. We'll be fine. We'll have Norah change our diapers instead." I know I SHOULD let him off the hook, and I will eventually, but it's been kind of interesting how he comes back to it time and again, and I'm nothing if not experimental with my kids.
But I also don't want to give him such a complex that, should I need actual diaper changing as an old man, I won't have completely ruined my chances of having my kids take care of me. So I guess I'll just have to take things one day at a time, and if he starts obsessing TOO much about it, think up some way to defuse the situation.
We'll see. I don't want to act prematurely and lose my three year vacation from wiping myself.
This is hilarious! I like how 19 seemed safely far off to Gabe, and now it's sinking in that he agreed to something he might not want to do. But yeah, you might want to let him off the hook eventually. Still on the subject of poop, the unintended consequence of our kids now having the ability to sit in the exersaucer, their high chairs, bumbos etc is that the big swampy poos that used to stay nicely in their giant diapers are now all pushed up their backs. Bleh. I suppose there's no remedy for this, o Master Poop Whisperer?
ReplyDeleteSadly, no. Norah especially had problems with that (and, in fact, just had such a big explosion just a couple weeks ago that she got crap all over the stairs as she slid her way down them). I remember one time, right after she learned to walk, she'd been leaning against my rocking chair in the living room. She toddled away and I saw what looked like oatmeal smeared all over the front of the chair. "How did she get oatmeal on her back?" I wondered. Upon closer inspection, though it did have almost the exact consistency of very thick oatmeal, it wasn't. When I got her undressed, the offending substance had been squeezed and coaxed clear up to her shoulders (underneath her shirt, which must have taken some doing). I think potty training is the only cure for that.
ReplyDeleteShucks. I thought you might have had a trick or something. We just started rice cereal and the like, and since Théo won't have anything to do with it and William loves eating of any kind, he's been eating both of their "portions" every day. So now he has that oatmealy poo you describe. Although truly, I'm not sure it is any worse than the slimy poo they've been doing the last month or two; it's probably better, in fact. I'm not sure I'm ready to have poo smeared on my household surfaces, though. So far it's still in their diapers and clothes. It's possible that that won't happen to us, right???
ReplyDeleteA few months back, the online comic theoatmeal.com had a "perception vs. reality" series, and one of them was the preconceived notion of parenting (where the parent would be exhausted and the house was a little grungy but the kids were playing happily on the floor and everything was frazzled but fine) and the reality (one of the kids was trying to kill itself somehow, the other was shooting a stream of shit out onto the wall, the parent was a complete wreck, and the house was a disaster). I found this pretty fitting, actually.
ReplyDeleteAnd if you can figure out a stain cleaner that will effectively remove poop stains from carpet, let me know. Nothing we have will get rid of the Norah smear off the stairs.
One thing to think about in terms of letting Gabe off the hook, is if you remember, many of our classmates, and family, were changing diapers and wiping butts at Hilltop at about the age Gabe is planning on changing your diapers. You might be setting him on a career path if you aren't careful.
ReplyDeleteMolly, I don't know how you do it with double the poop. Right now one nasty butt is enough for me. Paige has taken to pooping once a day usually, so when she does, they are nasty explosions of poop. Thankfully the diaper covers and reusable diapers are holding things in place right now, but who knows for how much longer. Whenever she wears disposables the poop always ends up leaking out everywhere. And we have started rice cereal too, not sure if that is thickening the poop up or what, the cereal is as much milk as rice at this point, so I haven't seen any real changes.