The Path of Resistance

In our moms group at church, we have spent two weeks talking about discipline. I don't think any mom sets out saying, "I'm going to let my child get away with whatever they want," but, having been a teacher for eight years, I know that often, that's the technique.  And I understand why.  Humans, like rivers, are drawn to the path of least resistance.  It's easier to let them do it than to put up a fight.  However, unlike rivers, we have the power to force ourselves uphill, over the rough and steep terrain, further up and further in.  And not only do we have the power - as parents, we have the responsibility.

The difficulty comes in figuring out HOW.  Here is a perfect example of what I mean:

Yesterday, my family enjoyed a day at the pool celebrating our niece's birthday.  My four-year-old does fine in the pool with his puddle jumper and had a great time jumping off the diving board.

He did great...until he had to pee.

This might not be an issue for a normal kid, but my kid is afraid of toilets.  Like...deathly afraid.  I think it all started when Daddy took him to the bathroom at the mall or somewhere where they have automatic toilets.  It was loud and it scared the pants off that kid.  As a result, he is terrified of public toilets.  I have to take him in, flush it once so he can hear it, and then I usually have to stand there with my hand on his shoulder or somewhere to reassure him, and then we flush the potty TOGETHER.  (It used to be that I flushed, so we are making progress.)

Obviously, this arrangement cannot continue.  The kid is four-and-a-half years old.  He's been peeing on his own for a year now.  He should be able to do this.  We have talked endlessly about how there is no reason to be afraid - it's just a loud noise that signals the flushing of the toilet.  That's it.

Knowing this, I take Charlie to the bathroom for the 2nd time (Daddy had already taken him twice, and the kid peed EVERY SINGLE STINKING TIME).  As we are walking to the locker room, I calmly explain to him that he is a big boy and he needs to go by himself.  He begins to panic.  I stop right where we are, take him in my arms, and pray with him.  (We always do this when he is scared.)  We go into the bathroom.

And all hell breaks loose.

I tell him I will hold the bathroom door.
He wants me in the stall with him.
I say no.
He cries.
And now I am no longer CALM. 
He screams when I try to push him into the stall.  I pull him back out.
I talk to him again.
He screams.
We pray again.
I try to get him into the stall again.
He screams again, and now there are big tears rolling down his face
And now I am FRUSTRATED.
I speak directly into his face, explaining that he is a big boy, nothing is going to hurt him, and he is FINE.
He doesn't believe me and runs out, saying he no longer has to go.
I force him back into the bathroom, at which point he is SCREAMING (please note that we are not at a public pool - we are at the freaking Country Club, where people are having fancy dinners just down the hall).
And now I am ANGRY.
So I yell at him to get into the stall and pee.
I push him in there, pull down his pants, and make him go.
He cries and screams throughout the whole ordeal.
He flushes the toilet and we leave. 
He continues to throw a fit.
And now I am OH NO YOU DIDN'T.
I tell him to calm down and stop throwing a fit or we are leaving.
He continues.
I say, "Okay - grab your stuff. We are leaving."
He screams louder.
I tell him to get his shoes on, which he does while scream crying.
I tell him to calm down and go say goodbye to everyone.
He doesn't.
I tell him to do it or he's going straight to bed.
He doesn't.

By this point, I am HOT.  I am NOT speaking kindly, I am NOT being patient, and I am ready to BLOW.  I give my husband the I'm-so-going-to-kill-your-son-and-don't-you-dare-try-to-stop-me look, which he wisely heeds with a wave, and Charlie and I leave the pool.  Once out of the gate, I say to him "I am going to give you the walk from here to the car to calm down.  By the time we get to the car, I want you silent.  Do you understand?" More screaming.  We walk to the car.  I say, "I don't want to hear a peep out of you on the way home."  He gets in the car, fastens his seat belt, and continues to cry.  I start the car and then stop it and say, "Do I need to come back there?" "NO!" he yells and calms down.  Quiet.

By the time we get home, he is completely subdued.  He watches me in the rear view mirror and tiptoes into the house.  I tell him to go straight to his room and get ready for bed, which he does with no complaint.  I go to the kitchen and empty the dishwasher as a means of calming myself.  Then I proceed into his room, where he is curled up in bed with his blanket and his monkey, his eyes wide.

"Charlie, why are you going straight to bed?"
"Because I threw a fit."
"Yes. Because you threw a fit.  A big one."
"Mommy, I'm sorry about that."

And he hugs me.

We pray.  I ask Jesus to help Charlie with his fear of the toilet and help him remember that he can't throw fits.  Charlie thanks Jesus for the toilet...but Jesus knows what he meant. That boy does not say a word of complaint about going to bed.  He rolls over and is asleep within minutes.  Throwing a fit like that must really take it out of you.

I go back to cleaning the kitchen.  I am still deescalating, but as I always do after I exert some major discipline, I start to feel like a failure.  Rick comes home and puts Lucy to bed and I tell him the whole thing.  We discuss the fact that the boy is not being willfully defiant.  He is not saying "I don't want to use the toilet so I'm not gonna."  He is genuinely scared of it.  But he HAS to learn how to flush the toilet.  It's a life skill.  I am thinking about losing my cool.  I lose my cool occasionally and I WAY lost it today.  And when I lost my cool, I yelled, pushed, forced, and shoved.  Should I have done that?  Rick, bless him, says yes.  The kid was clearly freaking out and needed you to take over.  But...did he?  Did I do the right thing?  And (and this bothers me way more than it should) what did the people around us think? It's not like you can not notice someone's kid throwing a fit like that.  The people out on the FREAKING GOLF COURSE noticed.

This morning, after I've had some time to think and pray, I think there were some very good things about the ordeal:
1) Charlie did (eventually) do what he was supposed to do.
2) He did get his shoes on, leave the pool, get into the car, and keep his mouth shut on the way home without any "forcing" on my part.
3) He did seem to realize what he had done wrong.
4) He apologized without any prompting.
5) He may have even understood the consequence because he didn't complain one bit about it.

And there were some bad things:
1) I shouldn't have yelled
2) I'm still not sure if I should have forced.  Maybe we should have gone outside, sat for a little while for him to calm down, and then tried again.
3) I shouldn't have lost it. I'm not sure how I could have kept it, but I should have.
4) I realized later I sent the kid to bed without dinner.  Probably shouldn't have done that, but he won't starve.

Moving ahead: I plan to make a trip to the pool this week for the sole purpose of practicing the potty.  I am going to talk about it all week and then we are going to go do it.  I think I will also try to take him more when we are in public (which gets tricky with Lucy, but what can you do?).

The path of resistance is, well, crappy.  It's full rough rocks.  It's full of battles.  It's full of unknowns and second-guesses.  But the path of least resistance is what makes people and rivers crooked, as my dad always says.  I don't want to be crooked, and I don't want my son to be either.

So we will just keep at it.