What the Crap?

Well we have entered into my most dreaded part of parenting.

Toilet Training.

And even though I've done this twice, this time is totally different. 

And technically, I don't even take credit for training Emma Grace because I think it would be better to call it mentally scarring her for the remainder of her life. We barely survived it and I'm pretty sure her toilet training experience set her up for years of future therapy. In a nutshell, let's just say she learned that intentional "accidents" annoyed me to no end and she put that knowledge to good use. Including the time she was mad at me and stood up in the booth at Moe's, looked right at me, and peed all over the place. Luckily Todd was there to save her life. And luckily we learned that she didn't like to sit in soiled undies so that phase soon ended. I probably shouldn't have blogged about that. Maybe she's forgotten and won't need the therapy until she's reading this one day. Sorry Diva. What can I say? You were my first. One day when you're a mom, you'll learn that the first has a distinct disadvantage of parents learning as they go along. I'll cover your therapy costs.

Isaac was easy peasy. I was so over toilet training at that point that I pretty much didn't care if he went to college in diapers. Luckily for him and his future college roommates, he cared. He pretty much took it on himself when I was about 7 months pregnant and got it done.  After about three days, he was good to go.

And that brings us to child number three. The one with SPD. Here's just a little blip of an article that may help you understand why this time is completely different:

"If an SPD child literally cannot feel sensations from his bowel and/or bladder, or the sensory receptors of this interoceptive sense are not picking up or interpreting messages properly (over or under responsive), the child will not know when/if they have to go the bathroom, or how to effectively control their bowel/bladder muscles for elimination. Their bodies truly do not give them the proper input or signals necessary for effective potty training. It is the same general concept that underlies SPD... the sensory input, neurological organization, or sensory motor output are inefficient."

Yup. You catch all that?

Here it is in a nutshell:

Owen's brain doesn't always send his body the right signals which sucks and slows down his response times. For example, in conversation, it takes him a longer amount of time to process what is being said to him and an even longer time to formulate his response. And sometimes that response has nothing to do with the initial inquiry. And physically, he is just now learning how to walk upstairs one foot at a time or climb into his chair and try to push it up to the table himself, etc. Having his hair brushed hurts and feeling hot or cold distresses him to no end. And don't even get me started on the tip of a shoelace rubbing against his leg. Based on his reaction, it must feel like he's being stabbed repeatedly while simultaneously catching on fire and having all his hairs pulled out of his head one at a time.

So based on all this and the fact that the majority of the time his brain doesn't tell his body when he needs to eliminate, and even when it does, it may not tell his muscles how to eliminate properly.....why are we attempting potty training?! Because we're stupid and crazy. And because he wants to wear underwear like his brother and his friends. And I don't blame him. So we're giving it a shot with absolutely zero expectations. It's more about me taking him at timed intervals than about him "feeling" it and that makes it different and difficult, but the kid doesn't get to eat anything fun and most of his clothes annoy the snot out of him so if Batman underwear makes him feel like a happy, typical big boy, then Batman underwear it is.

And it has given us a few laughs. Like this morning when he was having trouble and I turned the bathroom light on and he asked if "lights help pee pee come out?"

Or yesterday when I went to start cooking dinner and found this:

(I have no idea. But at least they were dry.....)

Here's my boy working hard in the ball pit at therapy to help those neurological connections. He truly has come so far this year!

And that's the end of my long rant on disgusting topics. You may now return to your normal lives that don't involve way too much information about bodily elimination.

You're Welcome.

(PS - I have no idea what's up with the different fonts on this post.)