Cannot. Won't. Never. Will?

“Potty” training.

You know you’re in trouble when the word “potty” is no longer socially appropriate to use because of the age of your child..

Because this has been such a draining month, I’m apt blow past the limits of socially acceptable discourse in this blog, Fair warning that this may be some uncomfortable territory, but it’s a reality for us that others may not fully grasp. Noah can do a lot of things, but it is important to understand just how many things he cannot do and may never do on this planet.

Our 11 year old cannot pee exclusively on the toilet, cannot poop on the toilet, cannot wipe his own butt & cannot recognize when he has to pee or poop in order to make it to the bathroom. While he pees in the toilet semi-regularly, we believe he sees it as “just another place” to let her rip, rather than the exclusive, all inclusive pee receptacle society intends for it to be. Our 5th grader cannot brush his own teeth and makes it very difficult for us to do so. He has no concept of danger and would just as likely look at a bus and then walk out in front of it as he would climb in a stranger’s car (especially if they had just picked up some ice cream).

My son is nearly a middle-schooler but cannot wash himself in the bath or in the shower. Hygiene would be just another funny word with no meaning to echo back to us (I might try that actually!..) He can’t usually tolerate getting a haircut without attempted clotheslines and dropkicks coming our way, which is why we make him look like Stone Cold Steve Austin – lengthening the time between visits. He can’t make himself a simple lunch, dinner or even a snack really. If left to his own devices he would eat a selection of no more than 5 items during any given time period. Well.. I guess in that respect he’s a lot like a typical middle schooler, so perhaps that’s a bad example!

He cannot sleep for more than a few hours a night without a significant amount of sleeping meds to force needed sleep upon him. He cannot sleep without a safety bed, keeping him secured in a safe space so that he cannot wander or hurt himself overnight or in the early morning while we are asleep. He cannot sleep in normal pajamas, because if he soils his diaper, he will try to substitute poop for play-dough. He cannot attend a public school, because as amazing as they are (and they are!), they are not equipped to sufficiently help a boy like mine.

My son cannot independently tell me he loves me. My sweet boy cannot independently thank me for the countless bruises I’ve suffered, the never-ending sweat I’ve poured out, or the fountain of tears I have repeatedly cried out with on his behalf..