it's my party and i'll poop when i want to

Our youngest makes his own decisions.

About everything.

He has his own vision, his own way, and his own timing.

It is who he is and who he has been since the moment he was born.

We were excited two summers ago when, at 2.5 years old,  he initiated toilet training.
Our oldest was toilet trained with no trouble in a weekend at age 3. 
We were feeling pretty good about our kids' toileting proficiencies.

And this time 'round, our youngest was so good about it...until he wasn't.

Once he turned 3, he still wanted to wear the underwear but didn't want to use the toilet so we did a lot of laundry and transitioned to pull-ups at night.  "It's is a season," {I thought} "he'll get there..."

 We remained hopeful he'd be trained by the next summer...
but he wasn't having it.

For nearly a year we tried:

{Reminders & Timers}

"Oops, I have accident already.  It's just a little poop though"  

As if there is ever such a thing as "a little poop"

{Rewards}

"Um, I don't want a treat"

{Consequences}

"I'll help you...I love doing laundry...!" or

"Look at me! I am rinsing my underwear all by myself!"

{Autonomy & Privacy}

This never turned out well. Ever.

{Social Shame: All your friends are moving up to the big room and you'll be left out..}

 "That's okay, I'll make new friends..."

Confounding!

So earlier this month {1.5 years after starting the potty training process, mind you}, we went hard core: 

We took away all of his joy {no treats, no shows, no snuggles, no toys, no nothing} unless he pooped in the potty.  

It was a tough few days that violated every part of my empowering therapist/parent self-image.

But it was time.

And his poop has now made it into the toilet for 24 days...in a row!

-----

But he makes his own decisions. 

About everything.

And lest we forget who is in control of his process:

 just this morning, he stood from his play to tell me he had to go poop {with hand pressed to butthole} and turned to face me with a coy pause as I encouraged him to make his way to the bathroom:

"Mommy, I have to think about it first..."

reflection on teaching: is & ought

this semester i am teaching a graduate course: 

interpersonal practice with individuals, families, and small groups {basically, an intro course on clinical practice}

i am enjoying myself and i feel like the students and i have an easy rapport. 

until last week

when i handed back the first assignment for the class, graded.

the first few weeks of the course have been {intentionally & relentlessly} self-reflective in nature for my students - only half of whom are actually clinical practice. 

{the other half are policy, management, and community organization focused} 

so, to make the experience even "more better," i asked them to draw a genogram, plot the interpersonal patterns and reflect on the patterns {as interpreted/understood by the student} among 3 generations of their family.  

and then, write a paper - complete with feelings and reflections on feelings. 

the students, for the most part, did exactly what i had asked and took the reflection questions to heart.  many stated they went into the project thinking it would be "easy" and then found themselves needing to take frequent breaks and found the process emotional {some reported tears were shed}. 

i remember that from my own reflective genogram over a decade ago.

26 families.  26 stories.  347 pages of interactive comments.

it was such an honor to bear witness to these narratives.

but the night i handed them back, i was exhausted.

i knew i would be consumed with grading so i had completed the next lesson plan in advance:

diversity in practice

{spiritual/religious. racial. gender and sexuality. educational. political. socioeconomic}

intellectually, it had seemed like a natural material progression at the time...

but it was a heavy topic and i was zonked before we even started.

i did not come to class with bells on

and

students were preoccupied with getting their papers back and digesting the feedback.

the energy in the room was a mish-mash;

we fumbled through but i don't think it was pretty.

we discussed the complex dynamics - assumptions, previous experiences, stereotypes, vulnerability, anxiety, bravado - that enter a room with someone with whom one meets.  

we discussed how these are at play regardless of one's {social work} role; 

the dynamics are a part of being human.

at one point, students turned the topic toward what the dynamic between social worker and the other "ought to be" and i found myself knee-deep in a version of Hume's is-ought dilemma: 

you cannot get an ought from an is.

 and

in the week or so since we last met, i have been turning this discussion over in my mind.  

what is a take-away?

today, it came to me:

power

 

power is an inherent dynamic within our work - within our humanness - and it shapes the reality of how we come together as individuals, families, and as groups.  i would argue that power is an organizing principal in our daily lives - one which has potential to be used for good or for evil.  

power that is in balance, pursuant to the situation, has great potential for good.  

on the other hand, 

power that is out of balance creates a problematic template for relationship and decision-making.  

the reality of social work - and really, the moral and ethical drive we have to pursue this work -  is: 

we live & work with/in systems {families, organizations, communities, schools, governments} in which power is out of balance.  as we go, we need to be able to acknowledge the dynamic reality that "is" and have a vision for what "ought to be" while embracing our obligation to intentionally engage in the leg work born of that gap - to bring greater congruence and balance between the is and ought.

in that way, i have been thinking about the wonky energy in the room during our last class.  

i am wishing i had taken the time to acknowledge the obvious reality of the power dynamic that emerged when i passed out the graded assignments. 

i was tired and assumed the previously established and easy "ought to be" of our rapport together, 

rather than acknowledging and working with the shift in what "was."

{always learning}

things are not always what they seem

I am about to leave the house for a meeting: all skirted and showered and organized.

I feel pretty good about this minor accomplishment because it will continue to perpetuate the myth that I have my shit together.  But on the inside of my head...and currently at our dining room table 

{to which I will return after said meeting} is this:

This is even a "cleaned up" version of the day thus far and represents the seven billion things that are simultaneously the most important things.

{not pictured: dirty clothes, unmade beds, dirty dishes in sink, nasty floors, rotting fruit, moldy shower & the list goes on...}

So, off I go rock the myth for 1.5 hours and then return home, pour myself an adult beverage, and get back to tackling my hot mess.

Happy Friday!