We were all sat round the dinning room table (about 2 years ago) having a nice supper with James new girlfriend who we shall for convenience call " hot totty." Ed was giving me a moment peace and was off merrily playing, I could hear him in the hall. He had actually eaten something and life felt like it was almost normal. I had been able to finished a sentence and been around to hear the reply without having to get up and sort out Ed, so I was feeling pretty good. When the small boy comes in sight naked as the day he was born and covered in chocolate. As I saw him I can still remember the loud voice in my head saying, 'why is that boy covered in chocolate?' closely followed by ' where the hell did he get chocolate from?' because lets face it if there was chocolate, is was better off in me than on him.
The awful truth hit me as I got up to clean him, to find he had managed to get chocolate all over not only himself but much of the house. Door knobs. walls, skirting boards, most of the floor (praise Jesus that we had it tiled) over the hoover, the handle and flex and underneith where he had tried to clean up. Moving on to the toilet, all over the toilet, the taps, the door, the floor, the sink, the toilet paper, all over the cupboard doors in the utility room, the door knobs the walls. Now heres the good bit. It wasn't chocolate. Its amazing how far you can spread a relativly small amount of shit, and considering how much was on him, his face, his hair, his body, his legs and his feet and hands it was incredible that there was so much left to cover the house with.
This was not the first time we had come across this behaviour. In medical lingo it has the rather sanitized name of 'smearing.' At night time before I discovered the joy of a melationine spray (god bless google) he used to jump around in the dark in his room for hours, litteraly till 10-11pm at night. Sometimes the smell wafted downstairs through his closed door, through the living room door and you knew to move quick as he was 'smearing' in his bedroom. Other occasions, saying good night to one of the boys as they went to bed half way up the stairs you would hear 'mum come quick' and you would have to pick a sleepy child out of shit and wash them and the room (thank god for bissel carpet cleaners). Sometimes you were so tired you would miss a bit and it is only when you find a gritty handle or something like that you knew the job of cleaning wasnt over.
I love a bit of CSI. I am old fashioned, and love a bit of Willows and Grisom. Sometimes I day dream about the pair of them going through my house with their special light and my whole house is illluminated by the traces of human waste. Is this a pleasent day dream, well no. But its a damned sight better than mopping up shit. Thankfully, as he is older, and we are addressing his issues and treating him with NAET, toilet problems are now an unusal occurance. Thats not to say they have stopped, but its not a regular thing anymore. Pooh in the bath is much easier to deal with, and that too is getting to be less of a regular feature.
On a good day its easy to see the progress we are making. On a bad day, well, I see the mountain we have to climb. Today is a good day, and I am thankful for all I have, just wish spell check was working! lol