I am shit.

Where do I begin? Let me again say that I'm shit, scum of the earth...an utter asshole. Wait, no - I'm an Asshole. Believe me, I earned that capital "A". I will tell you why. But before I do, I need to empty my head some. It is so compacted with thoughts. My head is killing me.
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Everyone makes mistakes. I mean EVERYONE. It always sucks when you make a mistake. Even when you do something simple like misspell a word, it sucks. You think, "I'm an idiot." And you think about how the person you wrote the email to must also think you are an idiot. But ya know, little mistakes like that don't really matter. Who cares if you tell your friend you wore a pretty "cat" with your dress rather than a pretty "hat". No damage done. You can even laugh at yourself - if not right away, it won't take long. It was a stupid, harmless, very forgivable mistake.
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There's another kind of mistake though - one that is better described as a total F up rather than that soft, dainty little word "mistake". Now there's the kind of F up where you are pissed off, say or do something mean (true or not), you didn't mean to say it, you hurt someone's feelings, and you didn't mean to. You feel horrible. You F'ed up. Those kinds of slips are horrible. And needless to say, there's often a lot of regret and guilt tied to it.
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Then there's the kind of screw up that's huge but you didn't make it cause you were speaking out of your rear or anything. You simply did something you shouldn't have. At the time, you didn't realize it was wrong or wasn't a good idea. You just did it. There's no reason why you did it...you just did. And because you made that decision, you F'ed up...you caused someone else pain.
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The example that keeps coming to mind is running over a dog. I know that's horrible, but it describes how I feel tonight. I feel like I ran over a dog. Think about someone who never goes home from work a different way but one evening, she decides to. She's in a hurry to get home and thinks the other way might be faster. The other route should have less traffic. That will let her travel a little faster. Juts before she turns on her street, a dog runs out in front of her. She has no time to think, no time to react. She hits the dog. She didn't mean to. She loves dogs. She didn't want to hurt it, but she did. It was her fault because SHE did hit the dog, but she didn't mean to.
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So, are you ready to hear my story? I don't know if I'm ready to tell it. I already keep replaying every single thing about my mistake - everything from what lead up to it to how I'm feeling now. I think about what was said - word for word, what was done - every single move of those involved...and it makes my swollen heart ache. I am so shaken and feel completely numb. I am not together even now - over an hour after my big screw up - and it probably shows. I really messed up. I didn't mean to. I had no idea what I was doing. Before I knew it, it just happened. There I was. I made a decision. I saw the results instantly. It was without a doubt my fault. I didn't understand. I had no idea what I was doing or not doing. I hurt someone else. God, I just can't forgive myself. This is one of those things I'll never look back on and laugh about. And I believe that even 30 years from now if someone were to make light of or dismiss what happened, I would punch them in the face. This is serious. What I did was a serious F up. I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself.
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Okay, my story. You want to know what I did. I hate telling the story cause it is like reliving it. BUT I want everyone to know what a DUMB ASS I am. I have absolutely no problem admitting I was wrong. I was wrong. I am wrong. I am an idiot. I am so disappointed in me.
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Okay, for real: MY STORY.
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Grayson is so smart. We are completely amazed by him - things we teach him and he learns so fast, things we don't teach him but he learns on his own. I cannot tell you how often Ray and I tell each other, "I didn't know he could say that!" or "I haven't ever seen him do that before!" And the other one will say, "Me either!"
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Ray and I take a non-traditional approach to a lot of things. Potty training Grayson is no exception. We decided we would NOT decide when to start training him, that we would let him tell us when he was ready to begin that process.
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Since he was 1, we have had a potty out for him to look at, touch, play with, sit on, etc. The book I read advises letting a child have access to their potty to do whatever they want with it. This allows them to become familiar with it and accepting of it. The author even said to let the child have his/her potty wherever they wanted to - in their bedroom, their closet, their playroom - wherever. This all sounded great to us. And it worked like a charm. Over the last year, Grayson has really taken to his potty. He likes it. It went from being something new and weird looking in his room to what he now calls a "potty" and recently moved into the bathroom so he could sit on his when Ray and I sit on the potty. He even began sitting on the potty naked before his bath, telling us he was going to "boo-boo" (poo-poo, of course) or "pee-pee".
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Tonight, it went a little further than that. Before his bath, I helped him undress as we always do. This time, it was a dry diaper, which I clearly remember telling Ray about. Grayson was more insistent than usual about sitting on the potty. He sat on it and got up to look inside the pot, only to do this many many more times. Ray and I were both very supportive and encouraging of him. But after a while, Ray suggested that maybe we should move on and get G in the bath. I told him maybe it would be a good idea to let Gray do his thing. Besides, maybe he really wanted to "boo-boo" or "pee-pee" on his potty. We let him sit there, get up, sit back down, get up, sit back down, get up, etc until he said "baff" (bath). Now that I think about it, I think I interrupted him by turning off the water (I already had it running for his bath). Immediately, he got off the potty one last time and said, "Baff". I said, "Okay", started the water again, and helped him climb in the tub.
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After his bath, I dried him off and again, he went to his potty. This is where the details get a little blurry. Now that Ray and I talked, I know that Grayson was trying to bring his potty out of the bathroom (to his room where he gets dressed in his pj's for the night). I don't think I realized yet that he wanted to bring his potty in there. I just thought he was trying to get out of the bathroom before I was ready to let him out (I wasn't finished drying him off yet).
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When I was finished, I opened the door and he ran out. He didn't go straight to his room like he usually does. I thought this was maybe because it was me bathing him rather than his dad. I hadn't done it in a while due to pregnancy and then recovering from my c-section. Grayson did not want to go to his room. He wanted to go back to the bathroom. It was getting late. Ray was holding Zander and trying to keep him up so we could bathe him (next) before giving him his last bottle and putting him to bed. I didn't want G to go back to the bathroom. I wasn't rushing him at all. I thought we'd go in his room, take our time getting him dressed for the night, and even slide some (he has a slide in his room) as we always do. He cried and cried to get out of his room. When the door was opened, he ran to the bathroom. I tried to convince him to come back to his room. He did NOT want to. He went straight to his potty, picked it up, and carried it towards his room. I wouldn't let him. I wasn't trying to be mean. I just thought about how the potty was fine in the bathroom, that he'd probably be looking for it the next time we were in there using it and he wanted to sit on his. Also, since we were late getting Grayson to bed, I thought maybe him insisting on bringing his potty into his bedroom was an action driven by sleepiness. So, again, I told him no. Actually, I took it from him and put it back in the bathroom. Instantly, he started crying. He wanted the potty back. I wasn't angry. I wasn't annoyed. I just thought about how it was late and that he didn't need the potty in his room. What I did was try to reason with him, convince him he didn't need to move his potty tonight.
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That's when the worst thing EVER happened. Grayson was standing there in the hallway between the bathroom and his bedroom crying. When I looked up, I saw tears streaming down his face and pee-pee all over the floor. As he wailed, he said, "Peee-peeeeee". All he was trying to tell me was that he DID have to pee-pee. And for whatever reason, he wanted to use his potty in his bedroom. If I had known he really wanted to use it, I wouldn't have questioned - much less, faught what he was doing. I thought he was doing it just to do it or maybe to play. Our little boy really had to pee-pee. He had saved it up and wanted to let it out IN his potty. He tried communicating that to me. I simply didn't get it. No one had to tell me what a piece of shit I was. I knew. I'm glad no one asked me what I was thinking cause the truth is I wasn't thinking...I wasn't thinking at all. I had NO idea what was going on. How horrible. I F'd up. The one thing I can say is that I didn't purposefully do anything against Grayson. In no way would I EVER set him back - for my own convenience or for any reason at all. Since before he was born, I've always declared the importance of parents letting their children be themselves - have their own idea, express themselves, etc. Tonight was no exception. I simply couldn't and didn't put 2 and 2 together. I am an idiot.
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I am definitely 100% to blame for Grayson not getting to use the potty for the first time. I cannot tell you how HORRIBLE I feel about that. Again, I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself. I hope he can forgive me. I immediately apologized to him and continued apologizing until I kissed him and told him good night. And I was crying from the moment it happened until after Grayson was carried to bed. I finally stopped crying, but I don't feel any better. I'm glad I talked to G about it - apologizing, telling him what I was thinking, that I was wrong, and asking him to tell me again when he needs to potty and that he can use his potty anywhere he wants to. I mean that with every ounce of my being. I wasn't trying to be mean. I wasn't trying to discredit what he was telling me...I just didn't understand exactly what he was telling me. It was a miscommunication...and it was definitely me that was at fault.
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Am I worried that Grayson thought I didn't think what he was telling me was important? Yes, I am. Am I worried that I destroyed Grayson's interest in using the potty? Yes, I am.
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I so wish what happened tonight was just a bad bad dream. But of course, it is real - very real. What he tried to tell me is real. What I wouldn't let him do is real. His confusion and devistation is real. My pain and remorse is real.
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Gray is only 2. He communicated with me the best and only way he knows how. Not only am I 30 years old...I'm his Mom. No one knows him and understands him better than Ray and I. It was a miscommunication. He was telling me something and I didn't get it.
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Now that I've run through the events of tonight yet again (this time in writing), I think about how miscommunication or not understanding has been a big, scary thing that's towered over me for months. Since my grandfather had his stroke at the end of October, he's tried to tell me so many things. He puts forth so much effort. He tries so hard to tell me what he's thinking. He knows exactly what he's thinking and puts it the best way he knows how. I try. I try hard, but too often, I'm at a loss. I either don't get enough of what he's trying to tell me or I don't get it at all. It's super frustrating and upsetting for him. He knows he isn't communicating his thoughts as well as he wants to but he's giving it all he's got - and he cannot help but wonder why the hell I can't get it.
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In my defense, I try. I really do. I want to get it. I always want to do the best thing. I always want to do what's right. Regarding Grayson, I never want to limit him in any way. I want him to grow, to flourish. And unless he could cause himself harm, I want him to do what he feels is best for him. I am not here to mandate how he lives, control him, or shape him into this person I want him to be. I want him to be him. I don't even want to question his thinking. But if G went to bed confused and hurt tonight, I understand why. I F'd up. He asked for my help. He depended on me for support. And I failed him.
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I F'd up.
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I am shit.
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