P is for Potty… or Poop.

Warning: I AM NOT ASKING FOR ADVICE.
If you have a quaint anecdote about how your child learned to use the bathroom in 24 minutes or some other fairytale bullshit, please keep it to yourself. No, really,…do not come at me with any of that crap. I won’t believe you, and we won’t be able to speak for a long time because I will harbor a deep and enduring resentment for you and your perfect potty-using child.
I need to vent. I need to unload my burden and hope that someone, anyone of my fellow parents (or caregivers) out there can relate to my problems and hold me while I cry and tell me everything is going to be okay. It will be okay. …right? 😦
My son will be 4 in just under two months. He will not use the potty.
Today, he went more than 8 hours without urinating because he will hold it as long as possible before he can’t anymore and then floods his pull-up or diaper and needs to be stripped, showered/bathed, and redressed. It gives him stomach cramps. His back hurts (his poor kidneys). I’m shocked he has not had a UTI.
I’m at my wits-end.
He does not care about “potty prizes:” sticker charts, toys, prizes, new undies, new clothing, unlimited tv shows while he sits, a BIG toy from the Learning Store {cough “up to $50 and it can’t make noise…} – NOTHING EXTRINSIC APPEALS TO HIM.
He will not go naked. He hates not wearing clothing and will scream and tantrum if we try and have him go “without pants,” but wearing undies, so he can feel when he needs to go.
He doesn’t give a fig for Daniel Tiger using the potty, or Elmo, or any other character or program that talks about using the potty. “If you have to go potty, stop and go right away…” Yeah, D.T., go find a trolly and *dingding* yourself.
He was closer to using the potty at 18 months than he is now, at nearly 4 years old, and I’m terrified. I’m scared that there is something wrong with my child. I’m scared that we’ve waited too long and now he’s not going to be able to learn how to go without some massive intervention and money that we do not have to get a “potty specialist” or some other new-fangled bullshit that no one ever needed before. I’m scared that our anxiety about his inability to use the potty is bleeding over and causing him to internalize it and make him not want to use the toilet even more. I’m scared that his bathroom avoidance will transfer to Z (my daughter) and that she’ll never use the bathroom either. I have nightmares that I’m suffocating in diapers and my children can never go to school or camp or anywhere far from home because they’re still in diapers and they won’t use the bathroom.
The rational part of my brain tries to assure me that he will learn, that he will be able to go to school and won’t need to call me or my husband from work because he pooped in his pull-up and the school isn’t allowed to change him. However, that part of my brain is being over-ruled by the anxious and over-worked parts of my gray matter that, while exhausted and over-taxed, still finds a way to have enough anxiety juice to fill me with existential dread and self-doubt.
I’m in touch with his pediatrician. I’m awaiting an e-mail reply that will assuredly tell me to relax, that my son is healthy and stubborn and will go when he’s ready. It doesn’t make the waiting or the situation any easier.
The only easy thing about parenting is loving your children;
the rest of it is incomprehensibly difficult.

Tikkun Olam – reflecting on another’s words

This post by Peter Holtzman is something that really resonates with me given some of the hypocrisy I am seeing from MOTs in my various social media feeds.
 
You are not for human rights if you are only outraged when it affects you.
You are not for true social justice if you are only active when it affects you.
You are not really awake to the problems of this world if you do not notice them until they are affecting you.
 
When I converted to Judaism, the rabbis at my beit din (loosely meaning “house of judgment”) asked me if I was prepared to be different. Specifically, they wanted to know if I was prepared to carry the often unspoken mantle of being “Jewish” or “other.” They wanted to know if I was prepared for anti-semitism that I may never have noticed before, or if I would shy away from my “Jewishness” if it meant that I would be open to more scrutiny and attacks in this regard.
 
I do not recall my specific answer, but I do know that it had something to do with being strong and strong-willed, and that I have always been willing to stand up for myself as well as the “little guy,” and that if being Jewish meant that I had to step into that role more frequently that I was unafraid.
 
I admitted in a recent conversation with my husband that I had been unwilling to believe that the sort of widespread organization and proliferation of anti-semitic attacks could happen here, now. I admitted in a recent conversation with my best friend that until recently, I didn’t really and truly understand what the rabbis had been asking me until now.
 
But the truth is this: I’m white. I’m a woman. I’m a third generation American. These three things grant me a helluva lot of privilege that, as Holtzman points out in his post, has granted me a freedom of “whiteness” that was never under threat. Until now.
 
Despite that, it is also true that these types of hateful acts (vandalizing cemeteries, defacing houses of worship, bomb threats to social centers) are not new. They have been happening for decades not just to Jews, but to every other minority group one could list with the only difference being that it hasn’t been happening in the quantity or the quickness to our group lately as it has in times past or to other groups. Now that it is, and our privilege is threatened, our hackles are up. We’re rankled. We’re pissed. We’re upset.
 
…but we should have never stopped being upset because our “freedom” was just a cover, and there were still others being oppressed.
 
Tikkun Olam means to “repair the world,” and is one of the reasons why I believe that I have always been called to be a teacher.
 
“The phrase “tikkun olam” was first used to refer to social action work in the 1950s. In subsequent decades, many other organizations and thinkers have used the term to refer to social action programs; tzedakah (charitable giving) and gemilut hasadim (acts of kindness); and progressive Jewish approaches to social issues. It eventually became re-associated with kabbalah, and thus for some with deeper theological meaning.” (http://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/tikkun-olam-repairing-the-world/)
 
When we turn our eyes from the suffering of others, for whatever reason, we are turning our eyes from HaShem, from the goodness that we aspire to, and from the very core of Judaism, which I believe is to “do good and be good” in every possible form.
 
I retain the position that I asserted at my beit din. I am not afraid to stand up for myself, I am not afraid to stand up for the “little guy,” even if he/she is outside of my group.
I am unafraid.