Sunday, March 14, 2010

Happy Sunday

While Daughter was in the hospital, I washed all the linens in her room, using fabric softener with something to get rid of odors in the final rinse. We had cleaned the mattress, and I sprayed it numerous times with febreze, but it wasn't getting rid of the odor. Friday I bought a zippered mattress protector, planning to seal the odor away in that. C had hung up all the clothes Daughter had dumped on the closet floor, and reorganized her drawers. My plan was to have the room back together when she got home.
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She was discharged sooner than I had planned, and her mattress wasn't dry. Friday night she put the two waterproof mattress pads back on and made the bed. I wouldn't let her take her suitcase from the hospital and all the bags from her locker at the workshop upstairs because I didn't want her getting overwhelmed and dumping them. Yesterday C helped her put all of those things away. In the process they found the socks I have been missing and asking about for weeks-- Daughter had them stuck behind some books on the shelves on her desk.
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She stripped the bed again and put a fan to blow on it to try to speed the drying process. Yesterday evening I washed her hair and rolled it on big rollers and put her under the hair dryer to take some of the kink out of it. At bedtime it was looking good, so she put a hair wrap on to keep it looking good for today. I told her to just put the mattress pads back on and throw a sheet over them. I told her she could just sleep under a comforter for last night and we'd see about getting the sack on her mattress today.
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Of course with the time change last night was a short night. I was moving a little more slowly than I would have liked, and right before I got in the shower I opened Daughter's bedroom door. She wet the bed. She hadn't put the mattress protectors back on, so the mattress is now soaked with urine again. She had taken the wrap off her hair, which was exceedingly frizzy as a result.
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To say I was furious would be an understatement. I let her know I was furious. I made her take a shower after I finished in the bathroom. She didn't think it was necessary. I informed her she could smell as bad as she wanted for her friends at the workshop, but she would not go to church on Sunday morning stinking of urine. She was, of course, moving very slowly. Since I was already running late and can't leave her unsupervised, this did not help my mood at all.
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I shouldn't let her get to me, but this morning I certainly did. I guess I shouldn't let it bother me that her bedroom stinks, but it does bother me that she is destroying a good mattress. She can't figure out why I'm mad at her. It will be interesting to see what story of abuse she shares to get back at me for yelling at her.
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She wants me to take her to town. I don't want to be near her. She won't be back at the workshop until at least Tuesday afternoon. I'm not looking forward to the next few days. I am going to have to head to City this afternoon. One of the saints is in the hospital. I guess I'll have to spend some time with Daughter. I'm not feeling like showing her Christian love right now. I guess I'll have to work on that.

6 comments:

maeve said...

Oh, my goodness, this girl is working on a PhD in button pushing. I wouldn't be charitable either and I don't think you should feel guilty. The matress is pretty much ruined, right? I think I might be tempted to take it off the table as an issue and make it her problem -- just never mention it again and keep the zipper cover until you need to buy a new one. If she stinks, she stinks, except in your church where she needs to shower first. If her room stinks her room stinks. It is what it is. You didn't do it. and you really don't care. You love her and respect her choices.

Aren't I mean?

Linda said...

Oh my gosh how frustrating! I'd have to say if it were my daughter I'd just want to take away the mattress and give her a sleeping bag. Well, I confess we actually did that when she said we never give her anything and kept telling others stories about us. Took everything we gave her to show her just how much we do give her. Next thing we know, social services is at our door saying we are neglecting our daughter by not providing her a bed. It's hard to keep a positive attitude when you are being abused by them. I'm glad you can write it out in your blog. Everyone needs a place to let go. You are a good mom! Take care of yourself too.

Reverend Mom said...

You are right, of course. And you aren't mean. You're experienced. I had been doing a pretty good job of making this her problem, but occasionally it gets to me. This morning was one of those days. It doesn't help that she has no remorse whatsoever.

Reverend Mom said...

Linda,

You were posting while I was posting.... I could take away her bed, but then she'd ruin the carpet. A mattress is easier to replace. Thanks. I'm glad there are people out there who understand.

Anonymous said...

Of course you're upset. It's your house that smells bad and I know just from having pets (my kids were toilet trained early and they never had "mistakes," thank goodness) that urine odor seeps all over the house. It's not like you can close her door and just forget about it.
Does her therapist have any ideas about what started all this and what can be done about it?
Since her mattress is pretty well shot you might get her a cheap replacement and swathe that sucker in waterproof plastic.I hate to say it but you may have to take the carpeting out of her room, too, and only give her a couple of changes of clothes at a time.
From what I've read from other bloggers with kids who have similar issues, once the peeing starts it can escalate until any and all surfaces in the kid's room are urine-soaked.
Ick! I feel bad for you.

Reverend Mom said...

Thanks....

We think that this is related to her Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which has been triggered by a number of things lately, especially Flasher. Unfortunately, I don't own this house, the church does, so I can't rip out the carpet (which was new when we moved in). I hate the damage she has done to this house.