Things have been going okay. Good, actually. We have had happiness and successes these past few weeks. Marie told me she loved me and she even looked at me in the eyes when she said it. Typically she says those three words to empty space in front of her after leaving the room I’m in. I only know they are meant for me because she says my name, “Mom.”
Two days ago she peed her bed. She had gone just about two weeks of being dry. I was disappointed. I still am, in fact. I don’t understand this struggle so it takes a lot of work to let it go. Marie’s pediatrician was the first one to mention constipation as a major component to Marie’s consistent bed wetting. So, Marie’s nighttime routine now ends with pooping.We gave Marie some medicine for a short while and ever since we have made sure she poops every night. After she is all ready for bed we tell her to go poop and she sits on the toilet until it happens. Sometimes it will take an hour. Sometimes 20 minutes. We discovered, however, that we need to check the toilet to make sure it happens.
Well, two nights ago Marie flushed on her own. Since she has been so consistent Mr. Sexy and I didn’t see it as a big deal.
The next morning she was soaked.
Did she poop the night before? We’ll never know. I didn’t ask her because, frankly, she won’t give me a straight up answer regardless of whatever the truth is.
And now it’s been a few days.
I’m sitting at my desk and looking at remnants of pencil erasers.
After dinner she does homework. Last night she also ate some eraser.
When I ask her about this kind of stuff I can tell immediately what the answer truly is by her demeanor. If she blankly stares and then looks around, trying to figure out a “correct” response, I know she has no idea what I’m asking her about. BUT if she presses her lips together, gives a sigh, looks down, I know that she knows EXACTLY what happened.
Her first response is, “I,” at which point I remind her (in that overly stern mommy tone I harbor) that one word makes no sense.
She then says, “I do not eat it.” This is the response she knows I want. She knows she wasn’t supposed to eat the eraser. So, like any very young-minded child she attempts to tell me the best possible “truth” and the result is she ends up telling me, “I ate it.”
She has a history of eating things whether it’s binging in the kitchen in the middle of the night, snacking on crayons in bed, or now, eating erasers while I’m upstairs doing other things. This behavior is progressing steadily.
What the hell am I to do? Never leave her alone ever? Send her to a special school because maybe then can figure it out?
Mr. Sexy’s idea is to take everything edible out of her reach. It’s such a broad idea I can’t figure out exactly what that would mean or what it would look like. Our current night time system is that she has a few barriers so she can’t get up and wander around, which is when she is most likely to get into mischief. So do we take all “edible” items out of the entire downstairs where she spends most of her time? She has eaten books before. And toys. We have lots of books and toys and papers and crafty things down here.
Mr. Sexy and I decided before we do anything drastic we need to go back to the specialist.
This most recent incident proves that Marie is in no way eating out of hunger. She is eating because….. who the hell knows.
But I’m pissed. And I don’t have time to be pissed. I don’t even have time for venting on this blog.
I am learning the part of Elaine from Arsenic and Old Lace to perform in their last show on Saturday. The girl who plays that character is sick so while I joked with Mr. Sexy about that being a fun challenge, he told the directors who ran with the idea!
So for now, Marie gets no privacy unless she is in her room. Her room is actually the one place where there is nothing “edible.”
Side note: I didn’t write this post for advice. I don’t mean to be rude but we get a lot of advice. At this point, I am only interested in the advice of someone trained in this area of eating what shouldn’t be eaten and trained in special needs.