At two years and four months the battle over dressing and diaper changing can be monumental. I know he'd be happier going out than staying in, but to get him out, we have to go through the battle. He
doesn't want his nice warm, soft, wet diaper off! And how dare we do something to his body that he doesn't want done! It's
his body!
In the midst of the battle, he starts crying, runs away from Daddy and comes to me. This time, since I'm not directly involved in the battle, I can feel the intensity of his pain: the outrage, utter dejection, ultimate giving up and incredible sorrow in having to relinquish control over an area of life so important to his sense of self-determination.
There's something essential to this battle though, that I can't quite put my finger on. Through tears and hand signals I realize that he aches for me to understand. Trying very hard to tell me what it is that bothers him so, he seems to need me to give it the words he can't quite form just yet. He throws down his shorts, crying, gasping, choking. He picks up the wet diaper, looks at me, shows me, wailing. I say, (with the kind of pain in my voice I hear in his) "You don't
want your diaper off!" He tries to open the discarded, soiled, wet diaper, holds it up to himself against the clean, dry diaper Daddy hurried to get on, seeming to be pleading with me through the tears. I say, (mirroring the sound of his sorrow), "You want to put your diaper back on!" And with that said, he crumples, takes a huge gulp of air between sobs, seems to cry less and leans into me just wanting to be held, just wanting to integrate what has happened, his sadness comforted by my embrace.
This out burst, to the best of my knowledge--knowledge intuitively received, educationally developed, and sensitively acquired through my intense and loving relationship to this child--is about his very self, his ownership of himself. And lately, every time we cross that line without gaining his permission, we are invading and ripping into his very soul. How broken he then feels! How utterly broken and dejected, as if his very claim to selfhood has been violated to the core!
This little being who is so close to his feelings and so able to express them fully without fear of what the other person might say or do makes
my life quite challenging. It breaks my heart to violate his boundaries for something as small as getting dressed! And yet this is the battleground he chooses. A minor thing to me symbolizes for him his very self. And this is where we do our most important work--the outcome of which is worth all the effort I have to give it.
The work for me is in learning about patience, negotiation, and the relative importance of competing agendas. I'm learning that establishing his selfhood is more important than getting somewhere on time or dressed properly. I'm realizing how crucial it is for me to be home, to have time with no other agenda than him and his life, his learning to be himself, know himself, understand his feelings, be able to live through his feelings, assert himself and not compromise himself just to please others. My belief and hope is that when he's treated with respect, he will naturally learn to respect others. My basic underlying principle revolves around the belief that if my child is treated with respect by his caregivers, he will naturally learn to respect himself. Respect for others then simply evolves organically from a strong inner core. What he does not have for himself, he will not be able to give to others. How he is treated by the ones he loves will be an example to him for how he is to treat others.
Another task for me is teaching and learning consequences and tradeoffs--though I'm not sure he is really developmentally ready to comprehend these things just yet. Often though, I'll say, "If you leave your diaper on, you'll get a diaper rash that hurts!" Today I say, "If you want to go to the volleyball games with Daddy, you need to put your shorts on." At that point, what little ground we've covered in being able to calm him down is now quashed under a resurgence of hurt, anger and tears--how dare I not stay with the essential issue! Changing clothes and having me understand what he is feeling about that is so important to him he will forgo volleyball! Volleyball means nothing in the face of establishing selfhood.
When I have the time it takes to face this battle respectfully, I warn him, way ahead of time, about what we are going to do--change his clothes or diaper--and why. He generally says, "No!" but seems to warm up to the idea if given some time. Then I give him a choice: which clothes or shoes, which place to change the diaper--standing up while playing or sitting down on the rug or on the bed. Choices seem to help him feel more in control and then, it becomes a shared experience. His behavior is a reminder that this is an appropriate stage in our relationship: he's no longer a baby who has everything done to and for him without his input. He wants to do some of these things by himself--taking his own clothes off or unfastening his diaper. He's learning some mastery over his universe. When I offer him the option of doing these things, he's more than delighted to be "cooperative." But these things take time...
So I am left with the realization that #1. Daddy won't take the time right now to negotiate--the tournament is starting! And Daddy is larger, older and wields a different kind of power in the family system. #2. Jason loves going to watch volleyball with Daddy and if he wasn't two years old and focused on learning about the boundaries of his separate self, he'd probably be out there in a minute. And #3. If we get Jason dressed and do it quickly and get the sunscreen on, we'll have five to ten minutes of hysterical anger, dejection, and the kind of wailing that crushes your heart.
When the "Real World" of artificial timetables and schedules collides with the "Toddler World" of inner readiness and organic timing, we have the opportunity to see if they can coincide without sacrificing too much of the self. This is an important "battle" that continues on into adulthood. This time Mommy and Daddy opt for the sacrifice and once that 10 minutes of "battle" is over, Jason's focused on and excited by the next proposition: putting raisins in some plastic wrap to take to the tournament! "Helmet Daddy!" and they're off on the bike to watch volleyball! What have we learned? I takes time, understanding, validating, and sometimes just bracing our way through the battle to get to the good.
