The Potty Wars, and Other Fine Whines

Ok, the title warned you. It's been one of those days. Some people drink to deal with a bad day. Some eat. I'm usually in that last category, but not tonight. Some throw things, curse, stomp their feet and carry on. Some deal with frustration by going on a cleaning frenzy...anyone who does that and lives near me, feel free.(the cleaning, not the throwing, cursing, etc). Just sayin.. ahem. I write.
  The economy has many of us scratching our heads, trying to figure out how to pay the bills and live day to day life. I won't bore you with the details of what's going on here at home, but let's just say it ain't easy. The frustration level is pretty high and although I'm praying and trying to trust God and my husband, I feel like I'm screaming in the middle of a hurricane. It gives me something to do but it doesn't accomplish much and no one is hearing my voice. God hears me, I know he does. But Little Miss Impatient needs to learn a little self control.
  I have five very hungry little vultures -er, cats who are my fur babies. Yes, I know part of the above problem is the number of those little darlings. I won't take them to a shelter that will end their lives in three days or less, and most no kill places aren't taking cats at the moment from what I can tell. Our county doesn't even have an animals shelter (whine whine whine) and most animal loving neighbors are just as poor as we are. Other than mine (most of whom are indeed looking for good homes in case you want a pet or know someone in the vicinity who wants a lap warmer/mouser combo) there are several homeless fur balls. I know because at least three of them know when its time to eat here. They come boldly into the yard, but not too close to the porch, because two or three of mine are quick to remind their guests just who gets to eat first and who truly belongs here. They get the cheap stuff here at home, and they are pretty happy about it. 
  While feeding the cats, J was setting me up for a nice surprise inside. I come and I smell The smell.  You know the one. It goes by many names which shall not be named here. I pray the present has not been left in his room. I check. Woohoo, not there! Is it in the bathroom? Yup! Great, right? Enh!  It's right in front of the toilet. And there is some in the tub. (Can you hear the Psycho music in the background? Shudder)! Yes sir, ladies and gents, its fun with autism once again. He has the first part of pottying fairly well in control ... with some accidents. The second part however..... ick. At least he's taking care of it in the bathroom and not other rooms at this point. I've tried teaching him how to go and where to go, every which way I can think of. I am grateful that this situation does not occur in other homes by my darling boy, but I would love ever so much if this particular thing would click in his brain so that he has that "Aha!" moment  and it didn't happen here. Ever. Again.  Please pray we get complete potty training soon. And if there is any advice, I'll gladly listen.
  I know it seems (to me anyway) that any time I mention autism and J, I only mention the bad side of things.  At the moment I'm listening to him in his room, bouncing on his mattress and singing. That's a cue that he's almost ready for sleep, but he doesn't really want to rest just yet. He's not been told he needs to go to bed, it's just his routine: supper, meds, bath, bed. He's content with it. He'd rather settle in at home where he is most comfortable. He doesn't like late nights, and to him, anything past 8:30 pm is too monstrously late to be away from home. He has only a few exceptions in which he is okay with not being home by then. J has popped into the living room a few times, to see what I'm doing, and checking to see if my shoes are off. They are. 
  In J's mind, shoes are needed only if you're going somewhere, and even then, not necessarily while in the car. He knows that shoes must be worn at church (although many times we've found his shoes in the hallway or under a pew instead of on his feet). He also understands by now that Grandma's need their shoes on. He isn't happy with that one, but he gets it. But I'm a mom. Moms don't need shoes on at home. It certainly can't be comfortable. If I don't take my shoes off in the house, he will! In his impatience to remove the offending items (wonder where that impatient streak comes from?) I have had to grab hold of anything stable lest he sweep me off my feet. Thankfully that doesn't happen often and he's mostly okay to wait until I sit before the shoes need to come off. Same for socks. Socks are only for use with shoes. I don't blame him in any of the sock and shoe business tho. I feel so much better with them off.
  I'm smiling now. Although he's a little early in his going to sleep, I think he's almost there. My whine fest is over for the evening. Time to settle in a bit myself. Get cozy under some covers and read or watch a movie. If you made it this far with me, thanks for listening (reading). Have a great night.
 
 

Ok, the title warned you. It's been one of those days. Some people drink to deal with a bad day. Some eat. I'm usually in that last category, but not tonight. Some throw things, curse, stomp their feet and carry on. Some deal with frustration by going on a cleaning frenzy...anyone who does that and lives near me, feel free.(the cleaning, not the throwing, cursing, etc). Just sayin.. ahem. I write.
  The economy has many of us scratching our heads, trying to figure out how to pay the bills and live day to day life. I won't bore you with the details of what's going on here at home, but let's just say it ain't easy. The frustration level is pretty high and although I'm praying and trying to trust God and my husband, I feel like I'm screaming in the middle of a hurricane. It gives me something to do but it doesn't accomplish much and no one is hearing my voice. God hears me, I know he does. But Little Miss Impatient needs to learn a little self control.
  I have five very hungry little vultures -er, cats who are my fur babies. Yes, I know part of the above problem is the number of those little darlings. I won't take them to a shelter that will end their lives in three days or less, and most no kill places aren't taking cats at the moment from what I can tell. Our county doesn't even have an animals shelter (whine whine whine) and most animal loving neighbors are just as poor as we are. Other than mine (most of whom are indeed looking for good homes in case you want a pet or know someone in the vicinity who wants a lap warmer/mouser combo) there are several homeless fur balls. I know because at least three of them know when its time to eat here. They come boldly into the yard, but not too close to the porch, because two or three of mine are quick to remind their guests just who gets to eat first and who truly belongs here. They get the cheap stuff here at home, and they are pretty happy about it. 
  While feeding the cats, J was setting me up for a nice surprise inside. I come and I smell The smell.  You know the one. It goes by many names which shall not be named here. I pray the present has not been left in his room. I check. Woohoo, not there! Is it in the bathroom? Yup! Great, right? Enh!  It's right in front of the toilet. And there is some in the tub. (Can you hear the Psycho music in the background? Shudder)! Yes sir, ladies and gents, its fun with autism once again. He has the first part of pottying fairly well in control ... with some accidents. The second part however..... ick. At least he's taking care of it in the bathroom and not other rooms at this point. I've tried teaching him how to go and where to go, every which way I can think of. I am grateful that this situation does not occur in other homes by my darling boy, but I would love ever so much if this particular thing would click in his brain so that he has that "Aha!" moment  and it didn't happen here. Ever. Again.  Please pray we get complete potty training soon. And if there is any advice, I'll gladly listen.
  I know it seems (to me anyway) that any time I mention autism and J, I only mention the bad side of things.  At the moment I'm listening to him in his room, bouncing on his mattress and singing. That's a cue that he's almost ready for sleep, but he doesn't really want to rest just yet. He's not been told he needs to go to bed, it's just his routine: supper, meds, bath, bed. He's content with it. He'd rather settle in at home where he is most comfortable. He doesn't like late nights, and to him, anything past 8:30 pm is too monstrously late to be away from home. He has only a few exceptions in which he is okay with not being home by then. J has popped into the living room a few times, to see what I'm doing, and checking to see if my shoes are off. They are. 
  In J's mind, shoes are needed only if you're going somewhere, and even then, not necessarily while in the car. He knows that shoes must be worn at church (although many times we've found his shoes in the hallway or under a pew instead of on his feet). He also understands by now that Grandma's need their shoes on. He isn't happy with that one, but he gets it. But I'm a mom. Moms don't need shoes on at home. It certainly can't be comfortable. If I don't take my shoes off in the house, he will! In his impatience to remove the offending items (wonder where that impatient streak comes from?) I have had to grab hold of anything stable lest he sweep me off my feet. Thankfully that doesn't happen often and he's mostly okay to wait until I sit before the shoes need to come off. Same for socks. Socks are only for use with shoes. I don't blame him in any of the sock and shoe business tho. I feel so much better with them off.
  I'm smiling now. Although he's a little early in his going to sleep, I think he's almost there. My whine fest is over for the evening. Time to settle in a bit myself. Get cozy under some covers and read or watch a movie. If you made it this far with me, thanks for listening (reading). Have a great night.