Wednesday, 9 April 2014

Poo, puppies and parenting...

When did my life become all about poo?

When we first adopted the boys, we knew there would be lots of challenges, but one that we thought we could avoid would be that of dirty nappies and poo... Of course, in their early days we had a couple of accidents and our youngest did end up back in pull up pants for a short while but apart from that, all was fine.. Poowise.

Then we got a puppy. I had forgotten how messy house training a pup is. Yesterday morning for the first time, puppy asked to go out. She ran outside and did her 'business' in the garden. I stood by her telling her what a good girl she was and rewarding her for pooing outside. She was so happy that she immediately ran back up to my bedroom and pooed again by the bed. She sat there waiting for me to praise her... She didn't get it that time.

Then later that day I needed to send out a couple of emails and do the online shop (I am never taking the boys supermarket shopping again, I usually end up buying loads of junk and spend most of my time apologising to whomever TJ has offended - he has learnt that if you put your hand up to your mouth and whisper how fat or ugly someone is then they can't hear you... Unfortunately, he hasn't mastered the art of whispering!)

Anyway, I popped both boys into the garden to 'play' and I pulled out the laptop.

I had two minutes...

Then the crying started. 

I decided to leave it. It sounded more like an 'I'm going to tell' cry than a major incident. But then I heard them talking... "You think I care if you tell him?", KC asked his brother, "What can they do? Ground me? They can't do anything else. So I'll just carry on hurting you."

I was actually stunned. This was my responsible older boy talking. Not only was he being frightful to his brother (who hasn't done that at some point?) but what stunned me was his dismissal of Papa and I as 'they'. It dawned on me that in his mind we weren't his parents, just those who look after him for now.

I was hurt.

Then I remembered his foster carer saying to me, "it will take them as many years with you as they have been in care for them to accept you as their parents." I poo-pooed it at the time (see what I did there?) But I think she was right. TJ was just 5 when he came to is, as he approaches 9 he does seem to accept that we are his parents and would never refer to us as 'they'. KC was 6... So we have a couple more years to wait."

I then heard a blood curdling scream. I rushed out and TJ was bawling. His face was covered in dark wet stuff. I looked at KC. "It's just mud," he said defensively.

"It's dog poo," screamed TJ, 'he put dog poo on my face!"

I sniffed the offending article. It was poo alright.

Now I was in a dilemma. What could I do to KC?  I told him to stay put while I cleaned up his brother.

As we left I turned to him and said, "I heard what you said young man," I was obviously channelling my  father here, 'and if grounding doesn't teach you a lesson then we will have to think of something else, won't we?" KC looked suitably stunned. Then I channeled my mother, "Just wait till your Papa gets home!" I said through gritted teeth. Poor Papa, after a long day at work being 'strict Edwardian father' probably isn't top of his 'to do' list.

As I cleaned TJ up he said, 'Daddy, my tummy hurts, I think I need a poo." I have learned that when his tummy hurts a poo is imminent... I learned that the hard way. I popped him on the toilet and went to deal with his brother.

After the usual chat about how wrong this was and how it made his brother feel and other similar nonsense I informed him that for the remainder of the week instead of watching tv for an hour in the afternoon with his brother he would be sitting with me and we would do times tables together. This time it was his turn to let out a blood curdling scream. Well at least something hit home!

I then had a call from the bathroom. 'Daddy, come and look at my poo... It's huge!'

He'll be asking me to put it on a Facebook next...

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