Exit Stage Left

Kids go through stages. I know this. I've raised enough boys to be comfortable with this statement. Kids go through stages. Simple.

But Cade...I pause to run my hands through my hair to see if it's falling out in patches...Cade is going to END ME, PEOPLE.

It's a never-ending transition from one horrific stage to another. As soon as he was old enough crawl, he discovered the dog water and food. And for almost a year, he splashed, dumped, and even drank the dog's water. He took immense joy in putting the dog food into the water and stirring it around. He loved to put other random things into the dog water. Stuffed animals, DVD's, army men, hairbrushes. You're judging, right? You're giving the computer monitor an incredulous look and asking, "A year, Dori? Why didn't you just MOVE the food and water?" I guess the answer is part 'I never had to do that for three other boys' and part 'Where am I going to move it where a 26 pound Pomeranian can get to it, but Cade can't?'

That finally subsided, but before I could celebrate, we began the arduous task of making sure that Cade didn't choke to death on a daily basis. Everything went into the child's mouth. And I mean E-ver-y-thin-g. Dog food, balls, weeble wobbles, rabbit pellets from the back yard, old milk, checkers, coins, soap. Yes, soap. He'd put it in his mouth, make a face, look at it and proceed to put it back in his mouth just to reassure himself it did, in fact, taste that bad. Then Legos. OMG - the legos. Lego men heads, weapons, tires, blocks, trees, etc. Protein isn't really the "building block" to Cade's muscle - it's Legos.

Once we realized that he wasn't putting so many things in his mouth, we were already into the "NO!" means "DO IT FASTER" stage.
Cade's translations:
"No, Cade, don't eat the dog food." = "Eat is before I can get to you!"
"No, Cade, don't jump on the couch!" = "Jump off the couch and run!"
"No, Cade, don't drink that milk from last night's dinner." = "DOWN IT!!! DOWN IT!!!!"

And finally, just when I'm starting to see some improvement in his reasoning skills, he starts potty training. This really isn't a behavioral stage. But Cade manages to make it a challenge. He's, well, he's VERY regular. He poops each night at around 9:00. And we put a pull up on him to avoid the underwear/poop debacle. The last week or so, he's decided that he needs to take the pull up off after he's pooped in it. And he's really quiet about it. We think he's sleeping until he says, "Mommy, I need to go poop." under the door. I walk into his darkened room and either step directly onto the pull up (always facing up where there's no avoiding maximum foot-coverage) or I walk into the 'Where in the world could Cade's stinky pull up be?' mystery. Why does he hide it???? WHY? He cheerfully smiles and says, "I went poop!" while I frantically check his hands, the bed, the furniture, and the toys. Do you know how many diseases are fecal in their origins??? Hazmat needs a secret tunnel to Cade's room.

So, I ponder these questions while I'm trying not to cry at the end of a day where I either spent it keeping Cade alive or cleaning up his hazardous waste - why is the last child the most challenging child??? And when will a good stage happen? And will I recognize it while I'm on anti-psychotic meds?