I was concerned about whether to post pictures of Pierce’s poor forehead, but it was so shocking, and he recover ed so quickly, that I thought it might help some other mom and dad if (when) this happens to their little one. Try not to panic.
So the last two days have been interesting for Michael and me. He, as we all know by now, is having poop issues. We finally had to give him help to really clean out the bricks piling up in his colon. This was the night before last, and frankly, I’m tired of discussing it. But, the saga continues…. Poor kid had a stomach ache in school yesterday, and one of his major neuroses is pooping in the school bathroom. Unfortunately the better option must have been “try to ignore it and it might go away—or I’ll just poop my pants.” It happened… I was broken-hearted for him when his teacher called me about it. I was also on the other side of town at the time. Grammy went to the school clinic to rescue him. Here’s the poignant part—the clinical staff cannot go into the bathroom to help clean him up for obvious reasons. So here he is, a five-year old, not terribly enchanted with school to begin with, having the forbidden accident in his pants, and trying to clean himself. I know this was a valuable lesson for him—hoping the fear of pooping in his pants would be stronger than using the bathroom, but I was mortified for him. When Grammy go to the school she went into the bathroom to find him with a whole lot of toilet paper strewn about the space from trying to clean up the mess, and a marvelously good attitude. She said he was sparkly eyed and not at all demoralized. By the time I got to her house, I could hear him yelling in that “big-little boy voice” they all use when they are all fired up and playing. No deep emotional scarring here… I was grateful, even though I did wish the much-needed lesson had a little more effect.
All of us slept in until 7:30 this morning! It was divine, until I had to wake Mikey. This is rarely a fun job, since he usually wakes up pretty ornery. His first words were, “I don’t want to go to school today.” They were followed by a bowl of cereal and more general griping, and you know the rest of the story about wearing pants instead of shorts.
Finally, we were off. The ride to school was good and it seemed his spirits had recovered from the” rude awakening” and the realization that he was going to school. When he was dropped off, I went home to putter around a bit and get ready to take my latest piece of furniture to OMA for a charity auction. At about 10:50a.m. My cell phone rings. It is Mrs. K., Mikey’s teacher. She is calling me because he is holding his stomach and complaining of pain. She has urged him repeatedly to use the bathroom, but he won’t go. So I make an impromptu decision to go down to the school to take him to the bathroom myself, since we don’t want a repeat of yesterday in either an accident or going home from school. When I get there, he gets choked up and immediately begs in any way possible for me to take him home. I assured him that this was not going to happen—he was going to figure out how to poop at school, and then he was going back to class! This went on for about 20 minutes when I got tired of fighting with him and watching him pendulum back and forth between tears and sassing. I told him I would wait outside in his classroom for him. After momentary panic, he let me leave, and there he sat. Occasionally I would hear him in there saying to himself but like he’s hoping I can hear him, “I am never going to poop at school, ever!” Eventually, I told his teacher enough is enough, I will send clothes to school with him and if he has an accident than he can clean himself up, change, and get back to class—I couldn’t indulge this behavior any longer. After all, we didn’t know how much of his discomfort was exaggerated. She was fine with this. She told me to leave and she would manage the situation. So I snuck out before he came out of solitary confinement.
I called her as I was returning to the school in the afternoon to pick him up, and she told me that he cried for a moment or so, and then behaved fine the rest the day. He didn’t want to go to PE, but she wouldn’t let him out of it, so he went and had a good time. He arrived at my car with a spring in his step and a good attitude at 3:15p.m.
As we chatted on the drive home, I asked him how is stomach was during the rest of the day, and he replied “ fine.” So I pressed further. “You mean it never bothered you again after this morning (because Mrs. K. said he didn’t complain of pains or clutch his stomach after I left).” He said “No.” So I asked him if his stomach hurt this morning or at all today. Again, “No.” (me)”So why were you grabbing your stomach and complaining to your teacher?” (Mikey) “Because I wanted to go to the clinic and have you come and get me.” I couldn’t believe he was that slick already! I told him that he will never pull that again—first of all—it’s lying! Second of all—nobody will believe him when he really is sick. I reiterated that he needs to attend school and that he has enough days when he’s truly sick, and we don’t need make up illnesses. That being said, we reconciled and went on our merry way.
The only other excitement as far as someone’s health and well-being today was a toddler episode. Pierce was playing on his knees on the rug between the coffee table and the entertainment center. Out of nowhere, he falls over hitting his forehead and orbital ridge around his left eye on the wooden knobs on the entertainment center doors. I was sick to my stomach when I saw what had happened. He had a quarter sized super-ball on his forehead and a nickel sized welt near his eye. They were swollen and projecting out of his face easily ½ an inch, and grayish blue immediately. I couldn’t believe it! We tried holding cold packs on it for about 20 minutes, but naturally, that hurts an already hurting area. Eventually he recovered from his initial pain, and got back to playing, but I am still alarmed by the purplish-gray knots on a huge part of his face. Poor love….hopefully a good night’s sleep will further remove some of the swelling.
What a day…in the life of your average mom…