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I wanted to write about so many things, but when I woke up this morning there was a funny smell in the study. I couldn’t see where anything had been spilt or any sort of mess so I carried on getting 3son and 4son off to school. I could not work out what the smell could be; it was like ammonia.

I got the two of them off to school and then found an enormous wet patch under the table. There’s a tablecloth that hangs over the edge and I still couldn’t work out how come there was a spill under the table rather than on top, or down the side. Then I noticed the splatter pattern which started me thinking and I put my finger on the patch and smelt. I’m glad I didn’t lick.

Someone had peed on the carpet.

It must have been 2son but he’s resolutely stayed asleep all day so I couldn’t talk to him. I’ve soaked it up, poured water on it, scrubbed it, let it dry a bit, bought more kitchen towels and had another go with soda water. We’ll see what it’s like tomorrow morning. I’ve had the windows open wide and still it stinks. Possibly the carpet will just have to go.

And I’ve cried. I’ve cried because I have to deal with all this crap. I’ve cried because I have a son who is not just unhappy and confused, but who is incapable of articulating either to himself or to others what is going on in his head. How disturbed must he be to do this? How frightened, unhappy, lonely, I don’t know what, and nor does he.

Although it’s the first time he’s done this, he has long had a thing about poo (which I have always reported to the professionals involved). He seems to wipe it behind bookcases, wardrobes, under tables, in places where it won’t be seen. I don’t know why, again it must be some sort of rebellion and expression. It’s not huge smears all over the wall, but very quiet small ones out of the way and they are always dry and old when I find them. I’ve never caught him at it. He does it around his bed which thankfully is metal framed so easy for him to clean, and it’s the only place I make him do it.

If I sound matter of fact about this, and not bothered, I am exceedingly worried about what is actually happening here, but he’s not doing it out of malice or spite, more out of some sort of confusion. There are practical considerations about cleanliness, about hygiene as well and I try and remonstrate with him on that basis, rather than with the disgust I feel when I discover some more poo hidden around the house, in his bedroom, sitting room or bathroom but nowhere else. The last thing I want or he needs is for him to feel that he disgusts me.

It’s also the hardest thing to tell people about. I’m embarrassed and they’re revolted. It’s a conversation stopper I can assure you.

I’m feeling numb, and helpless. I’m feeling empty and wondering how much more I can give, and what is going to be thrown at me next to deal with. I’m wondering how much his behaviour affects his younger brothers and whether they will make it through the next few years without copying him. I’m wondering at what point I cry “Enough!” and just crack up. I’m bored of being strong. I want some help. I want some support. I don’t want this. I don’t need this.