Scared straight.

About a month ago, we took Brady to a developmental pediatrician and we were given a to-do list. The main thing on that list was to schedule an appointment with a counselor. I totally did not want to do that, but I promised myself I would try every single thing on the list. So I picked a counselor from the list and made an appointment for the next Monday. I dreaded the appointment all weekend and didn't know if I should even tell Brady about it. I decided to explain that we would be going to talk to a lady about his bathroom habits and his behavior.

I picked him up from school early, dropped Cecilia off at my mom’s work during her lunch break, and drove to the counselors office. It was a really odd feeling- I couldn't recall ever going somewhere with just Brady since before his sister was born. It was that weird somethings-missing feeling, and I was getting nervous. He was excited though and asked if we could get a Happy Meal after we were done. “Sure!” I told him.“If you’re good.”

We walked into the office and a stranger immediately started telling us everything he knew about armadillos, including the time he was chased by one. I felt Brady tense up and sensed he was uncomfortable. He sat in my lap and we pretended to look at a magazine. When it was finally our turn, we hurried into Dr. C’s office. Brady immediately didn't like being there. He fidgeted, refused to talk, and kept whining. The doctor didn't like this and right off the bat told him if he got up from his chair one more time there would be a consequence when he got home. “Excuse me?!” I was thinking. She spent the next half hour fussing at both of us and finally told me a few things to work on. She then handed me a check out slip and told us to come back in 2 weeks. I walked out to the reception area, intending on just leaving, but Dr. C was watching. So I made the appointment, fully planning on calling to cancel when I got home. What was this place? Where was the plush couch, soft lighting, and soothing therapist I was expecting? I certainly wasn't expecting both of us to get fussed at and disciplined by a stranger! When we got in the car, Brady climbed into the third row and refused to come up to his seat. He was almost in tears and so was I. Consequence my foot, lady! I was taking my boy to McDonald's.

We went home and everybody went off to do their own thing. As I was pouring a bottle, I mean, glass of wine to try to unwind, I heard something I've never heard before. A voice that sounded like Brady called “Moooommmm! Can you please come wipe me? I pooped on the potty!” I just stood there, mid pour, wondering if I just hallucinated. Maybe I was the one who needed to schedule an appointment with Dr. C. I cautiously walked into the bathroom and there was my son sitting on the toilet with the biggest grin on his face. I peered into the toilet and I had never been so happy to see a poop in my life. We went to make a reward chart, which had never worked in the past. Let me tell you, Brady filled up his 20 stickers in 4 days. He used the potty every day that week, sometimes twice a day. He ate his dinner, he listened, he was polite! I was thrilled. I thought it would wear off, but every few days I would mention Dr. C and he continued being a wonderfully well-behaved little boy. The night before our second appointment, he even asked if he could sleep in his own bed. The child has never slept in his own bed. I tucked him in a read a book and he stayed in there 2 hours before getting in bed with me. It was still progress though!

At our second appointment, we were lucky enough to share the waiting room with a man in an orange jumpsuit with handcuffs and shackles, and a man tattooed from head to toe. The armadillo man was even back and asked me out on a date. This time, everybody seemed a little friendlier (minus the federal inmate) and we were a little less nervous. Brady played with other kids, and I struck up a conversation with the other moms.

The doctor praised his accomplishments and even got a few words out of Brady. She asked me what I had been doing differently. I told her nothing. She said to think hard, because I must be doing something differently. All of a sudden, it dawned on me. I had been failing one of my most important jobs as a parent: exercising authority.  I replied “Well, when I ask him to do something now, I mean it. There’s no more negotiating or putting things off. If he doesn't do it, he loses a sticker or a privilege. I take away something he values, like TV time.” I cut myself off, sure I gave the wrong answer. “Good job, Mom,” she told me. “Funny how that works, isn't it?,” (her voice dripping in sarcasm, of course.)

If we keep it up, we only have to go back one more time. Brady is continuing to do fabulously and so am I. I have come to realize that some kids need more structure and discipline than others. There’s nothing wrong with either of us, we just needed to find a common ground. There is always room for kids, and parents, to grow.