Rainbow Diapers

Had to get gas for the generator as the power is out.  It was $3.87 around 9pm last night.  Had to get more this morning and was anywhere from $3.84 to $3.88.

Leah had been out with friends leaving her step daughter at home alone. She had married her father last summer while she was at college and now she had graduated he was home till she found a job.  she pulled into the drive way and took a few shopping bags from the trunk before heading inside.  As she walked in she saw Chelsea on the couch.  “Hope you’ve done your chores.” She says as smell hits her.    “what is that smell” she asks 

I have been thinking of that but I not sure about the shipping times, it says it may take 2-3 days to ship  I know they ship from tykables and I am in the next day zone from chicago, I want to be home when they show up, so I dont want to take a weeks vacation just for that.

My cat lies with me

6: Taking Responsibility Theo I didn’t know how to talk about today. Not to my mom, and I hated that I even needed to. It still seemed wrong that the school was actually doing this: surely they shouldn’t be having a student track someone else’s toileting. And I was kinda angry with myself, too. My mom had said I could try and find someone else, and I hadn’t properly given that a shot. And then Max had upped the ante. Normally in the afternoons, I’d go and volunteer at the daycare, but I hadn’t been scheduled for any time this week, so I wasn’t required to go. So instead of heading there, I made my way to the library. That was the place I used to always go to when things felt too much, when I needed to get away from everything. It’s one of the few places that has always felt like it was mine. It’s where I fell in love with reading. I wanted to see if there was a way I could maybe nip this in the bud. So, the argument is that I’ve been having “accidents”, right? And that it might cause a disruption, and so they need to “manage” me. But surely the school’s approach was wrong. And so I decided that I wanted to find out what the typical approach is when someone suddenly starts showing signs of incontinence. I need to prove them wrong, but I need to play by their rules. When I did a search for “teenager sudden incontinence high school” there were quite a few results about developing a “Care Plan”, the possible causes, and different steps someone could take. There were more than a few suggestions for “continence management products”. How do I prove that this is something I’m managing, and that I don’t need Max? How do I get it so that he’s not in control of that log, so that he can’t make stuff up? By being proactive, that’s how! If I truly were starting to have accidents, what would be the proactive steps I could take? While still maintaining my dignity, of course. Well, obviously I’d want to see a doctor, to figure out what was going on. But that’s already something happening: I’m seeing one on Friday. I’d probably want to find someone to talk to, for counseling, in case it is psychological. I tend to hate therapists, though (except for my Mom, but she’s a special case). I’d want to minimize anything obvious. I wouldn’t want to wear diapers, or even pullups, as both of those seem like they’re steps too far. But if I want to show that this is something I’m working on, rather than opposed to, to get my Mom on my side, then something like a pad might not be awful. It would also take some of the power away from Max: he can’t state I’ve had an accident, if the pad I was wearing was still dry. But still, is that something I’d want to do? I felt myself blushing. But I needed to do something to “take back the microphone”. And also, maybe if I was able to show my Mom that I was following a similar schedule to the one the school set out, maybe it could be proof that Max didn’t need to be involved. And either way, tomorrow, I was going to do what I could to try and find someone else, if I’m not allowed to track myself. Which brought me back to another point: nowhere in my research did I see anything similar to what the school was doing. Surely, dignity should be important. I don’t really want to sue them, but surely there should be a way to add some limits. *** My mom noticed something was off when she got home. I don’t know if I was carrying myself differently, or if I just wasn’t as chirpy as I normally would have been (not that I’m a particularly upbeat person, although I do try). But she gave me a hug immediately, and I didn’t realize how much I needed one. I wanted to talk through the stuff first, before I lost the nerve. I’d been rehearsing exactly what I needed to say, because it felt like it was going to be hard, but it also felt like maybe it was a chance for me to at least have some agency. The first step was to give my Mom the logbook. I’d ended up looking up different charts online, and making my own version, because I didn’t want to use Max’s. Mine got entirely rid of the poop stuff, because it wasn’t relevant. It added some extra fields that were actually more important if I were actually having accidents, such as urgency, and when I had anything to drink. Instead of having the times written exactly on the left, I’d left those empty, so that it could be changed when needed. I’d logged the times I went to the toilet there, starting from when I was in the library. But I needed to show her Max’s chart first. She raised an eyebrow when she saw the headings, and an even higher one when she saw Max’s last log. I rushed to explain. “Now, before you say anything, it’s not true. I didn’t almost have an accident. But I know that it seems unlikely, because Max is writing the logs. I did refuse to follow the schedule, because I wanted to finish a lab. But it wasn’t a tantrum.” My mom just nodded, not interrupting. She could see there was more I wanted to say. “While I maintain that I am not having accidents, I understand your concern, and the school’s concern. I don’t believe it is proper for there to be another student involved in this, as it removes some of my dignity. How can I maintain my pride when there is someone constantly reminding me to use the toilet, and treating me like I am a child? “With that said, I understand why having a log to track my toileting could be useful. So, I have chosen to create my own one, following different templates I saw online, that seems more in line. I maintained the tracking this afternoon after school without Max, and stuck to the schedule. I was never close to having an accident, as can be noted by the ‘urgency’ field on my chart. “I would strongly like to request that Max no longer be involved here. I understand that you are concerned that I’m minimizing the seriousness of this. To show that I am keeping your concern and the school’s concern in mind, I am willing to take extra measures to prevent any disruption. “I’m going to find it embarrassing, but I am considering using incontinence pads. I need to emphasize here, that it’s not because I believe I need them, but because I believe it might quieten your fears.” I deliberately hadn’t looked at my Mom while I said most of that, and as I finished, I took a deep breath, and looked at her. She was smiling and nodding. “Theo, I know I don’t say it enough. But I’m incredibly proud of you. Well done for taking such a challenge in your stride. I was scared I was going to lose you to the stress, but I often forget how resilient you are. I’m impressed with what you’ve put together here.” I felt heard, and happy about that. And then my mind played a cruel trick: it reminded me of Max praising me after the first time I’d used the toilet. And the feelings were more similar than I wanted them to be. Why was I so desperate to believe that people were proud of me? “I think you’re right that there shouldn’t be another student involved. You’ve shown here that you are capable. The system is supposed to be there to support you. “And that’s where I’m concerned. You already admitted that today, you didn’t go to the bathroom when you ought to have. Whether you did have an accident or not isn’t the issue here: according to Max’s log, you did. So I don’t think the school is going to just allow you to be in control here. Your ‘buddy’ is supposed to be someone who can be a helping hand. “But I do agree with you that it seems strange. I feel guilty that I agreed to that, because you’re right, they should be putting more trust on you. Perhaps we can talk to the school and come up with a different arrangement?” The conversation ended soon after that. I didn’t really know where we stood, just yet, but at least it didn’t feel like I’d been entirely left out of the conversation. *** About half an hour later, my Mom entered my room. I’d just finished playing a level on my phone — one of those mindless games that are designed to just waste time. I felt like I’d earned it — I’d completed all my homework and planning for the weeks to follow: I like to feel in control. That means I’d already mostly completed the essay for AP Government that’s only due at the end of the month. It did mean that there wasn’t anything pressing that I felt I needed to do just yet. “Again, Theo, I want to state how impressed I was with you earlier. I know you’re going through a lot. And I don’t want to push you too hard. But I also admire people who take action: it’s pointless to say a lot of things, and then never do anything. So, I want to check if you meant everything you said? I’ve had time to think everything over, and I’m willing to have a discussion with the principal, but I want you to show some good faith first.” She spoke gently, but firmly, sitting on the chair by my computer, but turning it to face me. I looked her in the eyes. That’s not something that’s always easy for me to do, but I needed her to see my resolve. “Yes, I stand by everything. I believe I can manage this, and I will do what I need to, to prove that.” “Well, there’s one thing we can still do tonight. It’s only 6:30 — I’d assume the drugstores are still open at this time. Do you want to buy the…um, products… tonight?” I could feel my shoulders rising, and a little color going into my cheeks. Every instinct in me wanted to look away from her, but I kept eye contact. “I’m a little scared to, but I probably should face the fear.” “That’s my boy. Well, the ball is in your court. I’m willing to drive you to the store, but I’m not going to go in with you. This is all your responsibility. But I agree that if it’s something you’re scared of, it’s probably better to get it over and done with.” I nodded, not daring to speak, because it wouldn’t sound the way I’d want it to. My mom kept looking at me, until I said something, though. “Ok,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Can we go in about 10 minutes?” Thank goodness my voice did not squeak. If I was being entirely honest, I’d half-hoped I could get away with a day without doing anything related to what I’d mentioned. But I’d made my bed, might as well lie in it. *** Entering the drugstore felt overwhelming. The lights were overly bright — these long LED ones that were this blue-white color. And then there’s the bright white tiles, that then reflect the lights. And there’s the perfume section you have to walk through in the front, and I always found my nose assaulted. I hate drugstores. I don’t tend to go into them, when I can help it. I tried to act like this was a normal thing for me, just matter of fact. So I walked faster than I normally would have, holding my head high. I tried to avoid thinking about what I was actually doing, and the why. Unfortunately, I’d barely ever been in the store, so I had no clue where to find what I was looking for. Probably asking someone would make this quicker, but I did not want to do that. Which means I needed to look at the signs, for the different aisles. So, I was the awkward teenager moving between the aisles, probably suspected of loitering. (Though, who would loiter inside a drugstore?) None of the signs seemed to have what I needed, and I was starting to get more and more anxious. I could feel my thoughts racing. What if they don’t have them, or I can’t find them, and then my Mom sees I don’t have them, and she’s disappointed? What if all the people here are judging me, and thinking I’m a weirdo? My breathing was getting a bit fast, but I was in control. I had a task and I needed to do it. I wasn’t going to run. Yes, I needed to buy some products to manage my hypothetical “accidents”. Maybe if I just try and think about it directly, it will stop feeling insurmountable? I’m buying pads that are designed to stop accidents from happening for people that are struggling with incontinence. Yes, they’re not diapers. And they’re not something to be ashamed about. It didn’t seem that my body agreed with that: the blush at the thought meant that I was experiencing at least some form of shame or embarrassment. I started walking down the aisles individually. There was nothing like “Incontinence” written on any of the signs: I’d checked twice. They had “Diapers” written, but that was with the other baby stuff. I’d assume (or at least hope) that they didn’t put the incontinence stuff there as well. I eventually found them. It was a tiny section, next to the sexual health stuff, and some mobility aids. The sign for the aisle just said “Medicinal”. As I headed to where they were in the aisle, a lady walked in from the other side. She was a store clerk, and was pushing those carts that are used for restocking. She stopped in front of the section, and began unloading. “Can I help you, dear?” she called out to me as I got closer. Shit. What do I do? I stumbled through a mumbled “No, thank you.” I felt like I needed to get out of there, but I also didn’t want to leave empty handed. I took the first package I could see that had a guy on the front, instead of a lady. I raced to the till, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. I paid, said “Thank you” and went through the motions, and left the store. I didn’t want to look at what was in my hands. I joined my Mom in the car, eventually feeling my breathing go back to normal. “I thought you wanted to buy pads?” My mom commented, sounding confused. I looked down. The packaging said “Goodnites. #1 Nighttime Underwear”. These were not pads: they were pull-ups, for bedwetting. “I was rushing, I didn’t properly look.” I said, feeling both frustrated and embarrassed. “That’s fine, but it seems the store is closed now. How about we stick to these for now, and then we get the pads when they run out?” I grimaced. Yes, that’s probably what I’d end up doing. It sounded reasonable, because, after all, it was my mistake. But I don’t want to be wearing pullups! Max I wanted to scream! My head kept struggling to choose between who I wanted to be, and who I needed to be. And I didn’t have anything to keep my mind off it. None of my distractions were available. I couldn’t go out. And normally I’d just try and do some exercise. But that wasn’t helping. I couldn’t get my mind off today. I’d gone too far, and I hated myself for that. There was no reason for me to have made that one log entry. Why did I do things that I knew would hurt Theo? Yes, I want him knocked down to size. Yes, I like feeling in control. But I don’t want to be cruel. And I was. And I don’t even properly understand why I had acted that way. And I didn’t think I could have an even deeper crush on Theo. I knew I liked him a little (even though I tried to lie to myself about that). But there was something I couldn’t put my finger on that happened during that first potty check. I’d spoken to him the way I spoke to Luke, and it had felt so natural. And he’d melted! He didn’t fight back. If I could be around Theo with him like that all the time, I don’t know what I’d do. And maybe that was why I’d done the log thing? Was it spite? Did I want to see Theo in that state again, and him fighting back meant I couldn’t? Was I really that petty? I hated that I knew the answer was “Yes.” How could I fix this? I want Theo to trust me. I want him to want me. I want him to choose me. But he won’t do that as long as I’m the villain in his life. I need to change that role, and I don’t know how. And I can’t even tell anyone, and that’s the worst part! My future relies on me being able to do something with my football. My football relies on me at least having some form of friendship with the Pack. Being friends with the Pack means that I have to act in a certain way. Being friends with the Pack means that I can’t properly be friends with Theo. It means that I have to keep hurting Theo, so that I can stay looking strong. But all of that just means that I feel empty inside. I kept telling myself that I’d “trapped” Theo. And maybe I had. But I’d trapped myself just as much. And I didn’t see a way out. I wanted to message Theo. I needed to apologize. Hey, Theo. I’m really sorry. What I did today was uncalled for. I hate the way we treat each other. Can we start again? I didn’t send the message. I so desperately wanted to click “Send”, but Theo would think it was a trick. I needed to earn his trust. More than that, I needed to become the person who deserved that trust. I needed to become the person I wanted to be, but I have no clue how to. *** I ended up seeking out my Dad to ask for advice. He’s a medical researcher, so he sometimes works as a doctor, but often he’s in his lab or the study. He can be a mixed bag — his advice is normally good, but I have this feeling like I’m not the son he wanted. Like, I’m not smart enough. He never says anything, but that feels somehow worse. Unlike my Mom, who’s always very clear about what she thinks. I found him in the study. He didn’t seem to be particularly busy at the moment, but I still checked whether it was a good time to bother him. “Sure, what’s on your mind, Max?” He didn’t know I was gay. Well, no-one did. And I wasn’t going to bring that up, even though it was the way I acted towards (and around) Theo that was agonizing me. “Am I a bad person?” I asked. He looked at me, the same way he would something under a microscope. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to his intensity. I’d wanted to hear a quick “No”, but that’s not his style. “Why do you think you might be?” he asked, gently. “I feel like I did something cruel and selfish, and that I keep doing that, and I want to stop.” It sounded like I was whining. “A truly bad person wouldn’t realize they were doing anything wrong. So, no, I don’t think you’re bad. But I do think that if it’s something you feel goes against your conscience, you have a duty to yourself and the others involved to make things right.” “But I don’t know how to do that.” “Well, you’ve said you’ve wanted to stop, but that you keep doing it anyway. Have you asked yourself why?” “Yeah, I know why, but that doesn’t help. It’s like I’ve trapped myself in that behavior. And now every time I try to stop, it’s so easy to just fall back into it.” “Hmm, do you want to tell me why? You don’t have to, but maybe I could help better if I had more context?” “I don’t want to be a bully! I don’t like that I push people down, or humiliate them. But sometimes I find it fun. But I feel like I become a cruel parody of who I actually am. And recently, I’ve started being really mean to one specific guy, and today, I felt like I did something that might have a really bad impact. And I feel so guilty.” “Have you considered how he’s feeling? You can’t take back your actions, but you can make up for them. I don’t know the whole situation, and I don’t need to. You’re growing up, and I want to have a son that I’m proud of. That means I believe you can improve. “There’s that cliché saying about walking a mile in someone else’s shoes. Maybe you could consider trying to see how he lives life. Instead of viewing yourself as superior to him, maybe try and become friends. Unless there’s something else you think you can do. You’re welcome to tell me more, but I also think you should be responsible for cleaning up your own mess.” “I… I don’t know how I’d do that. I’m scared of being friends with him, because it might mess up my reputation.” “To you, is it better to be popular, but a terrible person; or unpopular, but a good one?” “I know what the ‘right’ answer is, but I don’t think it’s as black and white as that.” “Well, you could reach out an olive branch. How about you invite him round to dinner? That way, you’re not at school, and you can just see him as a person, rather than someone you need to make an object?” “I’ll think about it,” I said, as I left the room. And I seriously was thinking about it. I doubted Theo would say yes to a dinner invite, but I would offer it. As for a “mile in his shoes”, my Dad was right. I’d messed up with this whole “log” thing. But maybe it would be more fair if I flipped the tables. I could log Theo, and Theo could log me? I already hated the idea, and I could see how much worse it was for Theo. But that means it probably was the right choice.