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Friday, 17 May 2013

With a pretty normal day behind us, Ed gets in the bath with my best teapot filled with cranberry juice a few days ago. This teapot was bought in Bude, Cornwall with some birthday money on holiday BC (before children) and is stainless steel in an Art Decco style, so its not breakable. Generally, if its not dangerous or going to break anything, I let him do what he wants, you have to pick your battles carefully otherwise you have endless days of conflict. A teapot of cranberry juice was small stuff and we had an otherwise uneventful night, leaving the pot in the bath.
 Ed has a history of pooing in the bath, but recently had lulled me into a false sense of security on the matter, so I was quite laid back about him playing with it next bath time. Because of his sensory issues, he loves to stay in the bath, and I use this time to try and sort out the days carnage round the house - but whilst this time is useful its also a bit like Russian roulette. This particular night I got a full chamber (not knowing anything about guns I hope this means I got shot this time). There he is, happily sat in a large bath of poo soup. My beautiful teapot perched on the side of the bath is full to the brim with almost recognisable digested pieces of peas and sweetcorn (where do they all come from, even when you haven't served them that day) and chunks of floaty brown bits and bobs. My boy is just lying in it like Cleopatra in a really bad bath, and this dear readers is my normal. My spray bleach is on hand and I always have disinfectant, a bit like I always have a bucket ready for the next pair of soiled pants, or whatever gets in the way of Eds ol' faithful.

Now yesterday was interesting, Ed got out of the taxi quite happy, in the door quite happy ( I mention this because at any of these points something could go wrong for him and he flips ) but once in the hall something is wrong.
My son as I have said previously is non- verbal, so this means nobody has a clue what the matter is. Screaming he heads straight in the office for Tom and pulls his hair and tries to bite him in a completely unprovoked attack. Out he comes screaming looking in the under stair cupboard. I think he is upset because the hoover isn't out, and my offer to hoover the house for him eventually calms him down after a couple of minutes of hot hoover action, and then we have happy Ed again.
One thing most parents will agree on is that you use all your senses looking after children. It is simply impossible to be with them every minute. As a carer, you do your household cores when your charge is gone, this never happens as a parent and you just have to get on with it. So you use your ears, the different sounds they make give you an idea of whats happening, your nose gives clues as well and if your child has special needs you use your 'spider' sense. My spider sense went off whilst I was clearing up after tea. I had heard him run to the toilet but not come out, he was making funny little sounds, I couldn't smell anything so I thought he was maybe just flooding the sink. But no, there was a big soft soggy poo on the floor, half in and half out of his trousers, he was naked from the waist down except for the pair of poo pants he was wearing. Bits of poo were on his hand, he had tried to wash them off so there was poo on the taps and sink and poo on the towel. Just to mix it up a bit, there was poo perched on the edge of the toilet seat and joining all the dots was a sea of wee. Being a massive fan of CSI, I could look at the crime scene and deduce the following: Ed had not got to the toilet quick enough having left it to the last second playing with the hoover. Once in the toilet things happened quickly before he managed to get his trousers down. Once down he had tried to get on the toilet for a wee but was too late again, when from the edge of the seat he started to wee before he managed to push his willy down and so therefore weed all over the floor. So how could I be cross? he had tried. At least I could put him in the bath with a 50:50 chance of taking him out of a clean one, you win some you loss some.

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