_edited.jpg)
By the time she was aged eight or nine, we were really struggling with Greta’s behavioural issues. She had frequent meltdowns that often included aggressive and destructive behaviour, and even on “good” days her anxiety and need for exactness and routine dominated our household. In addition, we typically see a spike in unwanted behaviour when Greta is ill, and in the days leading up to an illness.
This story takes place a few years ago... Greta had been unwell for about two weeks (including some severe bouts of diarrhea), so we were already exhausted from coping with the stress. And then came that fateful Saturday morning when she had one of her biggest meltdowns ever. She overturned our coffee table and broke the glass top, threw a lamp, hit, screamed, and used aggressive language. As advised by the latest psychologist/behavioural team we were working with at the time, we put her in her room which had been set up as a safe place – no toys or unsecured furniture, a video monitor, and a lock on the outside of the door. They had suggested we wait for several minutes AFTER she stopped crying/screaming before going in to check on her, to allow her time to truly calm herself.
After about 20 minutes alone, Greta started to quiet down, and we knew that she would often fall asleep after these meltdowns. She was just outside the view of the video camera, but we knew she was safe and we could hear her breathing, so we figured she had fallen asleep on the floor by her closet. We waited the prescribed period and then quietly, slowly opened the door to sneak a peek.
Greta was sitting quietly in the corner and there was diarrhea poop EVERYWHERE. On the carpet, her bed, her dresser, the walls and, of course, all over Greta. Apparently, she had expressed her frustration by creating an honest-to-goodness shit storm in her bedroom.
At this point, Michael and I were already at the end of our rope, and we were pretty sure this was going to send us over the edge. I called my mom in tears and told her what happened. About 45 minutes later, she and my sister appeared at our front door, cleaning supplies in hand, and spent the better part of two hours cleaning and disinfecting Greta’s room. I could not have loved them more!
We got through the afternoon without incident, had dinner, and sat down to watch a movie with the kids. An alert went off on my phone – a reminder to pick up my neighbours’ daughter from work. They had asked me two weeks earlier if I could pick up their 16-year-old (who didn’t drive yet), from her evening shift at a nearby gas station because they were going to be out. I showed it to daddy and he nodded “okay”. It would only take me a few minutes. Annelise was curled up on one end of the couch, daddy in the middle with our dog, Molly, and a naked Greta happily perched on the other end, all of them watching the movie.
I quietly slipped out, made my pick-up, and pulled back into the driveway in just under 15 minutes. As soon as I stepped in the front door, I could tell something had gone down. Molly was outside barking at the back door, the tub was running, and daddy poked his head out of the bathroom and over the banister to look at me.
“Hi?” I said inquiringly. “Everything okay?...”
“Not exactly,” he replied in a calm, even tone. “Shortly after you left, Greta got up off the couch, walked to the bookcase and, without a word, squatted down and started pooping on the carpet. I went to grab her but then I didn’t want to move her until she was done because it was kinda runny. When she finished, I carried her to the bathroom and I had to rinse her off with the spray nozzle before I could bathe her. I got the worst of it off her, and then started to fill the tub. While that was running, I came out to start cleaning the carpet and Molly was eating the poop, so I threw up.”
I burst out laughing. I laughed so hard I could barely climb the stairs! Then he cracked a smile and started chuckling. It truly was a case of ‘either you laugh or you cry’. Sweet Lord!
We cleaned up, got the kids off to bed, and I’m pretty sure we polished off a full bottle of wine that evening. And thankfully, mercifully, that was the end of the poop saga.