Showing newest posts with label handling embarrassment. Show older posts
Showing newest posts with label handling embarrassment. Show older posts

August 21, 2009

Toilet Turmoil


"But my poop will be hard, Mommy!"

This was the voice of my 6-year-old little man in a crowded public restroom. I am sure most people with children have had some sort of embarrassing public restroom display and can most certainly empathize.

"I ate cheese yesterday and I know it will be hard," he whined as his 3-year-old sister chimed in with "Your poop won't be hard, it really won't, Brother."

As I have my finger up to my lips trying to shush my son away from any more embarrassing potty talk in the restroom, my professional training alarm rang in my mind. We learned that when a child is ready to talk, we must be ready to listen. I don't believe my therapy mentors, or my clinical therapeutic trainers, had this exact scenario in mind when they related the "be ready to listen when a child is ready to talk," but obviously this pooping dilemma was very important for my son at the moment. So, like any brave mom, I squatted in the stall and explained to my son that his massive cheese consumption is always balanced with what we refer to as "poop powder" at our house (thank the heavens for Miralax mixed with Sunny Delight), and that his pooping experience would indeed be comfortable.

I would have loved to have seen the faces of the people in the stall next to us as my son and I were having this heart-to-heart. Reluctantly, my son gave it a try and voila!, the task was comfortably accomplished. With a cheer of "Great job!" from me and a "See Brother, I told you it wouldn't be hard," from the three-year-old, our embarrassing potty experience was over. That is, until I saw how many people were at the sinks, recognizing our feet and voices.

But I am pleased with the outcome of this dialogue. My son had a valid concern, something that was worrisome to him, something he wanted to talk about with me. And I am glad I gave him the opportunity, as I knelt on the restroom tiles ignoring people eavesdropping in the stalls, probably giggling to themselves. My son can count on the fact that I am always here to listen, to hear him out and answer his questions. Inside a bathroom stall or out.