Tinted Glass and Soundproofed Walls

The latest in home decor, you know.

We just bought our house last July and I'm still in the process of painting the plain white walls, finding the proper furnishings and well - nesting, I guess. Today, while sifting through the pile of paint colors and matching them up to assorted items throughout the house, I had an epiphany.

Now, I can't take credit for this epiphany. Oh no. That lies with my younger son. He is truly the inspiration behind this. I'm thinking that we should skip the paint completely and try the upholstered wall thing. (Hey, they did it on Trading Spaces, right?) Anyway - the key is to upholster soundproofed padding with fabric the colors of the paints I've been considering. Sure, they won't be very forgiving when the ketchup flies, but they will drown out the screams *and* provide a safe surface suitable for banging my head.

Ever have those parenting moments when you sort of just step out of your body for a minute and observe yourself from a distance and think, "Holy crap. This mom's nuts. Someone should really take these kids away, pronto!" ?? Or is that just me? You know - the times when you pray to God your neighbors are away so they didn't hear what you just said to your little angels? I hope those children and youth officials weren't just peeking in the window...

I guess I figured I'd be able to roll with the punches a bit better than I've been the last few months. Child and adolescent development was WHAT I DID before children. I was GOOD at it. They never tell you that there's no training in the world to train you for your own flesh and blood. I swear - sharing genetic code with someone should make it easier, shouldn't it? I mean, they are part of ME for crying out loud. Shouldn't I know what makes them tick? Just my luck. They both got the assorted crazy parts of their parents/grandparents/ancestors.

My little guy (3 at the end of this month) has been potty trained for over a month. He did really, really well until a few days ago. One accident has led to a consistent refusal to use the potty for anything more than a quick sprinkle.

-Now, to be fair - if you thought that was too much information, you should stop reading now!-

I *know* about regression and setbacks. I *know* that he's not quite 3. I *know* that sometimes boys have a more difficult time than girls. Know what? I also *know* that this little demon is doing this out of a need for control. I'm in a freaking power struggle with my preschooler. Two control freaks going head-to-head is NOT pretty. Especially when one of us is already officially nuts.

I've been pretty tolerant and Susie Sunshine about the 'accidents' until today. Today was just too much. It all became crystal clear before my eyes. He thinks it's FUNNY to make me clean up after him. He actually laughed when he told me he pooped in his pants. Not just a nervous little, "Uh-oh! Look at that! I forgot to go to the potty!" kind of laugh. It was an ultra-devious, "Yes! My master plan is unfolding!" kind of laugh. So, I took him into the bathroom and said, "You know, J, Mommy doesn't like when she has to clean you up and change all of your clothes. Why don't you like going on the potty anymore?"

He laughs at me.

I continue, "Maybe mommy should make J help clean up this mess."

He says, "Uh, YOU are the big mommy. You have to clean up my poop."

The fact that I didn't lock him in his room until he was 25 shows amazing restraint on my part. Typing the words can't begin to express the level of snot-i-tude this kid was exhibiting. For a minute, I caught a glimpse of what 14 is going to be like. It chilled me to the bone...

So, I kept my composure and tried my best to keep the negativity to a minimum, yet let him know that this was not ok with me. I told him to start getting undressed so we could clean up. He took off his socks and his shorts rather gingerly and then moved on to the Spiderman underwear. (Poor Spidey!) He slowly worked them down and stepped out of them carefully so he wouldn't get messy. I was impressed at how well he actually did and started to feel a little bad that I felt so frustrated. Then - he did it. He went too far.

Looking me dead in the eye, my little monster inverted those poopy pants and emptied the contents directly onto the bathroom floor with the most disgusting "Splat!" I've heard in quite some time. "There. Now YOU clean it up, Mom!"

I thought my head was going to split open and unleash my inner demon, right then and there. That was it. I knew I was losing the battle - and I really didn't want to lose the poop control battle. So, I armed my little snot with a roll of toilet paper and made him stay in the bathroom until he cleaned up every. last. spot. Let me tell you - it wasn't pretty. He doesn't like to be messy - but doesn't quite have the manual dexterity to minimize the mess on such a job. It was pretty ugly for awhile. Know what? He cleaned it all up and apologized for doing it in the first place. He also said, "Poop is not funny. I will poop in the potty."

Uh, hello Mommie Dearest! Did you scrub the bathroom floor today?!?!? Did you?!?!?

Maybe we should go with the brown upholstery...