Ever since Michael had the stomach virus he’s afraid to poop. He’s had two enemas in 12 days because he keeps holding it. He thinks he can hold it forever even when we prove him otherwise. I’m not sure why everything is a control struggle or how to change myself in the situation. I was going to let him hold it, and if we ultimately ended up in the hospital, maybe then he would be scared NOT to poop. But then last Thursday his school called me to come and get him because his stomach was hurting. I tried explaining the issue we were having and how I shouldn’t be allowing him to get out of school because of his own choices, however the nurse told me it wouldn’t be good if I didn’t come and get him. So we did an enema, and after many tears and distress, he evacuated all his pent up “poop”. And he hasn’t gone since… He’s taken to lying about whether his stomach hurts when we find him holding his lower abdomen. We have been giving him the pedialax medicine that you mix in juice or milk, and when we can get him to take it—he hates it–but he is still able to keep from going. I’ve locked his toys away and taken away other privileges until he starts going again like normal, but there is no sign of an end to this. I am at a total loss—he can’t afford to miss school over this. But, then, it’s always something between him and me…
We still have a booster seat in one of our kitchen chairs for him because he likes to sit higher up to the table. Yesterday, though, he was sitting on the front edge of the chair instead of the booster and eating his cereal. I would love have that chair back as regular seating, so I asked Mikey if he wanted me to take the booster away. I believe this was his response verbatim: “No! I love my booster seat! I’m going to use it forever and ever even when I’m as big as daddy.” It’s a good visual since Daddy is 6’4”. The kid is crazy stubborn and neurotic, but he makes me laugh.
Today he even reminded me (with a devilish grin), “Remember when I used to say “let’s turn around and go home, mommy?” –Let’s go home.” ( As he’s about to get out of the car at school.) He’s a pistol! I think he may need to go visit grammy and papa for a week, though, so I can have a break from fighting with him. They are probably just learning this now, so here’s your heads up, folks! Mikey and his distended, impacted stomach along with his neurotic bitching is on his way! Enjoy!!!
So after all the drama, I drop Michael at school, and Pierce and I head home the usual way. We drive by the pasture with the horses and goats that I blogged about a couple weeks ago—always on the lookout for “satan’s” little helpers. Well, this morning they were right at the fence on the street corner; I can see that the female has pushed her head through the wire and can’t get free. Of course, I couldn’t leave her stranded. Meanwhile the billy goat is just loafing around the area doing nothing to help. When I’m walking up to do my heroic rescue, she is bahhhhhingggg “help”. I had to muscle her head to an angle so that I could get both her horns to fit through the wire rectangle. Here come’s Bill whose name should be Randy. He’s freaking out and talking to me, jumping on her, and trying to nip at both of us. It really added to ease of maneuvering her head back through the fence, but we managed. When she got free and started to walk away, Bill had a raging hard on and was trying to mount her. They were running around like a two headed, six legged goat for a few minutes while she was hollering in irritation. What I don’t understand is why randy Bill didn’t take care of business while his girl was trapped in the fence—guess he gets off on the chase! Thanks goats—I needed the comic relief in the worst way, today!