Joys of Boys

I had a lot to do this week.  I had it all carefully mapped out.  Each day I had a list of things to do: class, homework, clean, teacher conferences for each boy, well-child appointments, flu shots, play dates, haircuts, and park day.  But, the whole week was turned upside down on Monday morning.  I walked into the youngest boys' room and smelled...urine.  Yep, lots of it.  I was blown away by the disgusting smell.  I quickly began to process the smell: okay, it has to be that someone wet the bed, right?  That must be it.  But, both boys were dry as a bone.  My instincts kept telling me that the smell could only come from one thing: a complete and total "pee"-fest.  Itching in the back of my mind was the memory of putting both of them to bed screaming.  This is not an uncommon occurence on Sundays, because their whole routine gets messed up - and there is a total lack of napping that occurs on Sundays.  So, by the end of Sundays, there is usually a decent amount of crying involved.  I was hoping the two events were not related.

I calmly walked downstairs and completed all the stuff I needed to do to get the boys off to school.  While I was waiting to walk them to school, Bug came in to explain that, "Puppa peed on the puppy."

My brain started to process this new bit of info.  He really can't be saying that my three year old peed on our sweet puppy...right?  But, the immense smell of urine upstairs began to match with the events of the morning...and I began to panic.

I walked the boys to school and came back.  I bathed our puppy.  She was mad at me all day for that.  Then I marched upstairs with the boys and demanded that the boys show me where they had peed last night.  They somberly began pointing: in the drawers, in the corners, on the walls, behind the dresser, under the crib...EVERYWHERE.  I thought in that moment that I may lose my insanity.  But, I didn't.  I put them in time-out, and began to assess the damage.  I pulled out my carpet shampooer (that was woefully inadequate for such a job).  I began to clean the best I could. I scrubbed, cleaned, and then scrubbed and cleaned again.  I did this three times.  The smell was much better...but, still there. I wanted to die.  I fed the boys lunch, put them down for naps, and went and layed in my bed...just out of sheer grief.  This is my worst nightmare on a week that I couldn't handle as it was already mapped out.

I had to wash every item in the room, including poor Eeyore.  Poor Eeyore; he got the brunt of it all.  I washed walls and removed every piece of furniture I could move in the room.  For two more mornings, I cleaned and even still, the carpet cleaner will need to come tomorrow to hopefully get out the last remants of our little urine party.

During naptime, Puppa did it again. 

I called my mom to make sure I hadn't left any "discipline" measures out.  I was completely beside myself.  What was I doing wrong, and why won't this behavior stop? I went down the list of things I had taken away, the privileges I had refused, and all the punitive measures I had taken.  I acknowledged that I would need to separate them, since I've known that they were a toxic combination for a while now.  She agreed that would be a good move.  But, it required me boxing up my entire den and turning it into a bedroom.  We've been on the search for a house all summer, but haven't found anything.  Our parameters are hard to come by, and so we are trying to be patient in the process, and not jump at something just because "it will work".  She assured me that I was doing everything necessary to teach self-discipline in boys that clearly had none.

Then she called me back five minutes later.  "I was telling Dad about your predicament.  He wants me to ask you if you've talked to them."

Then preceded my explanation about how I've talked to them til I'm blue in the face.  I've asked them why, and haven't gotten a very good answer.  I've scolded them, and I've indicated my immense disappointment on several occasions.  To which my wise mother responded, "No, I mean really talk to them".  At this point I'm thinking, "Yes...how much more talking can a girl do?"  And, then she said, "I would ask them why they are so mad at you".

At this point, I'm thinking, "I don't really care if they are mad at me! They better keep their bodily fluids where they belong! They can take their anger and spray it in the potty where it belongs!" 

But, I told her I would try it.  Mostly because I knew she was right.

So, next morning, I got the boys off to school and then I came back to chat with my little miscreants.  I started out by asking them why they peed all over the room.  They both sat there, and then I asked, "Were you mad about something?"  To which Bug promptly replied, "Ya, I was mad at you." We talked about some things that I was doing that has been making Bug feel frustrated, and to my suprise, his beef with me was fairly legitimate.  Elijah expressed similar frustrations.  I hadn't been handling some situations the way that I should.

That brought tears, because I realized that it took a pee-fest to get my attention.

When Bug saw the tears, he ran over and hugged me.  He began to cry and said, "I'm so sorry."

Witnessing the whole scene, Puppa ran over, he began to cry and said, "I'm sorry too".

We all cried for a bit.

Since that morning, the peeing has stopped.  I have happier boys, but I'm not planning on putting myself in that situation again.  We sat all the boys down at explained that we would be having new sleeping arrangements.  Each older boy would be sleeping with one of the younger boys.  We talked about how important it was to set a good example, and help the younger boys to want to make right choices.  I put Blurbles with Puppa (the repeat offender).  I explained to Blurbles how much Puppa needed to feel loved, and that that would help him to make better choices. 

The next morning, I went in to get them and they were curled up on the floor with their blankets around them and Blurbles was reading Puppa a story.  Puppa looked up at me with the biggest smile and exclaimed, "Mommy! We are reading!!"

Blurbles has continued that for the last 2 mornings.   This morning he said, "I'm trying to help Puppa learn to read".   

My week was really bad.  One of the worst weeks ever. 

But, I was also very clearly reminded that my children are little people.  Little people with feelings, frustrations, and insecurities.  I may expect good behavior from them, but I also need to be willing to listen when the behavior is communicating that all is not well on the home front.  I've known for a few weeks that things were not all good with my younger two.  They've been a challenge for more than month.  I kept chalking it up to all the changes brought on by the beginning of another school year.  But, I wish I would have listened a little more closely. 

I might have heard a "pee"-fest before it all hit the fan.