The Doorway to Defiance

Am I the only Mom who hates to give their children peas? I have to be in the proper frame of mind and have absolutely no other frozen veggies on hand to bust out the peas. Oh, how they roll. Those tiny suckers end up EVERYWHERE. You can find them for days and days long after a pea-based meal is complete. I am in desperate need to grocery shop…

All peas aside, I must mention that my boys are prolific poopers. I know that can’t actually be considered a talent. However, if there was an American Idol of Pooping, they would be crowned first runner-up and the winner respectively.

Since Full Speed has been successfully potty-trained for well over a year, it has helped tremendously in our ability to get out of our home in a timely manner. I have come to accept T.Puzzle where he is on his journey to being potty-trained. It still doesn’t always excuse the frustration I feel when he poops at the most inopportune times.

Like today, for example. I am rushing around in overdrive because I need to drop T.Puzzle off at Grandma’s so I can visit Nan in the hospital (she had a little fall and is being held to have a bunch of precautionary and in my opinion because she seems so healthy, mostly unnecessary testing). Of course I have this feeling that T.Puzzle is about to poop so I check his diaper seventy-seven times. Each time he is free and clear. While I am running about throwing laundry here and there and putting dishes in the washer, he proceeds to go in the formal living room. I’m guessing it’s because he is modest and he likes to be alone when he poops in his pants. I mean, wouldn’t we all? So I rush to grab him and check his pants. Still free and clear. Whatever, I have things to accomplish.

T.Puzzle is being very accommodating. He is waiting patiently for me to wrap up all my chores so we can get out the door. When I finally focus my full attention on him, he has climbed over the couch to our front window and is walking the length of the window-sill. Back and forth, back and forth. He is having a ball and is laughing up a storm. Meanwhile, I try not to have a conniption.

I manage to get us out the door and put him in his seat (still unstrapped at this point). I suddenly remember the baggie of pull-ups and eggless cookies (as T.Puzzle is allergic to eggs) that I left on the counter. In the twenty-two seconds it takes me to run back in to grab the baggie, I return to find the overwhelming scent of poop accost me as I open up the truck. There he sits, full diaper and all, smiling from ear to ear.

Of course, of course. I yank him from the seat (I was not very gentle and yanking kind of felt good) and rush in to clean him up. We have a stand-off at the doorway. He insists on playing with the door and puts his fingers in the crack that slivers open when you push the door in. “No, don’t do that T.Puzzle, that is dangerous,” I try not to shout but I don’t want him thinking that this is okay. Especially because him and Full Speed are always messing around and by a door that can be a very bad thing. He squares his shoulders and looks directly into my eyes. Then he begins to flicker his fingers in and out of the door crack like it’s a hot flame full well knowing he is defying me. And he is loving it. Okay, so I lose it a little bit.

“T.Puzzle!” I shout, “don’t you ever put your fingers in that door again, you fingers could BREAK!” That sufficiently freaks him out. He immediately yanks his hand out and looks at it and begins to cry. Oh well, add it to the list to tell the child psychologist I may need to call (hopefully not) in the future.

We get through the door show-down and it’s time for his diaper change. The whole time I have his legs in the air and I’m wiping his tush he yells, “Stop it! Stop it!” like I’m torturing him to death. I shout back, “Stop pooping in your drawers and I wouldn’t have to do this to you!” I realize shouting at a two year old ultimately gets you nowhere. I promise, I’m adding it to the list.

As I am packing up the messy diaper, T.Puzzle (now in fresh pants) heads to the door. “You better wait for Mommy!” I warn. As I head to the garage and toss the diaper I think I hear the front door. Guess who decides to let himself out? Oh yeah, it’s T.Puzzle. I am defeated, I can’t even argue or correct anymore. All I want is to be on my way. I grab the little imp and away we go and I don’t shout once on the five minute drive to Grandma’s. I know, it was only five minutes but I guess that’s a start.