Today was a really rough day with Ian, my autistic 4-year-old. He has regressed on his potty training and is back in pull-ups. He had accident after accident but what bothered me about it was the complete lack of effort at using the potty. He was just completely complacent about the accidents.
Then after a doctor's visit, where he was non-stop screaming for 45 minutes, he came home and had a messy number 2 accident that was all over the trampoline and I just lost it. I really yelled at him, I feel so ashamed, but I really let him have it. I am such a bad mom, I yelled at my son that he was shitting himself like a retard. That's awful. I feel so bad about it.
Then I came down and cried on my couch for a few seconds because I was bewildered at God for doing this to my son and me. I was also so disappointed and ashamed in the type of Mom I was, raging at my sweet little boy. He's not t in the wrong, I'm in the wrong. I'm an awful mom.
Then I chilled out and went back upstairs and found that Ian had another number 1 accident, but this time, I sweetly asked him, 'Did you forget? Go pee-pee in the potty.' I was still feeling low about the whole scene for the rest of the afternoon. I have another appointment with a child psychologist coming up, maybe they can shed some light on what is happening.
Finally, a few hours later, I was patiently having a talk with him about going pee-pee in the potty but he wasn't there. He had the 1,000-yard-stare as I went through my talk that digressed into a whiny forshadowing of the type of work he might find if he doesn't straighten himself out now and I finally just hung my head down b/c he just wasn't there. His eyes were vacant. And I said, 'come on, Ian, gimme a little hope, say your ABCs.' Then, he looked at me, and recited them. In his own baby talk way but he was on beat and got most of the letters right. He delivered. Gave me a little hope.
