Monday, October 20, 2008


There is absolutely nothing that will stop a mother or father from jumping up in panic as when a child whimpers or yells, "Pee-Peeee!!!!" We've been through the potty training, which is a different experience altogether than what I'm describing. This is more of the post-potty training experience. Luke was successfully and consistently using the potty two months after his third birthday. Evie was successfully and consistently using the potty at about two and a half years of age. They are both great about it, except Evie has issues in the middle of the night when she wakes up and cries because she has to go pee-pee. Chuck or I run frantically into their bedroom to find out what is wrong and nine times out of ten Evie has to go pee-pee but won't get out of her bed to do it herself. She is also convinced that she can't get on the potty herself. (I must admit that the potty is higher than a regular potty since Chuck installed the taller toilets during our redo). She does have issues, but she could probably do it on her own if she would just try. So, we get her into the bathroom, hoist her onto the Mount Evererst Potty and wait for her to tinkle. She goes, wipes, refuses to wash her hands (we put up a fight during the day, but not at night), and then she returns to bed and is out like a light. I, however, return to bed and continue to be awake for at least an hour. I used to be able to go back to sleep, but not anymore.

So, the worst thing about this frantic need to go potty NOW as opposed to feeling the urge and gaging how long you have until you can't hold it any longer, is that when the kids say, "Pee-pee!", grab themselves and start the urgent pee-pee dance, you have to drop whatever you are doing and go get them on the potty. We have been at dinner many times engaged in deep conversation with our friends when the "Pee-Peeeee!" announcement is made. Never have I seen chairs screach, napkins fly, and a pregnant mother move so fast as when her child is threatening to let the pee go in a public place. This happened to me at this restaurant called the Purple Cow a little over a week ago. I had gone to dinner with our friends Em and Ben and their daughter Maddie. The kids were having fun and the parents were talking about rather important stuff - the school - and thoroughly engrossed in the conversation, when I heard Luke announce, "Mommy, Pee-pee!" He grabbed himself through his pants, danced a bit and looked pleadingly in my eyes. As I screached my chair back, I promptly ignored all conversation, briefly mumbled sorry, and rushed Luke to the restroom. (I must tell you that it doesn't matter what we were talking about, I would have left the table with only a brief apology - Em could have told me she was just diagnosed with cancer or her father died, or you name it, and I would have bolted out of my seat and herded my child to the restroom.) Of course, he protested about it being the girls bathroom. "Not the girls room (whine), The girls room is Bo-hor-ring! I want to use a urinal." Me, "Too bad, there are no urinals in the girls' restroom and mommy can't go into the boys' restroom" (I just love referring to myself in the third person). More whining, as he continues to pinch his penis (or at least that's what it looks like he is doing). We got into the empty restroom and went to the last stall so I could squeeze the boy and my pregnant belly into the handicapped stall so that I didn't suffocate us in one of the smaller stalls. Luke (still doing the pee-pee dance) lifted the toilet seat, pulled down his pants and aimed (without touching his penis - a whole other debate we've had) and peed one of the strongest streams ever. Why do they wait until they have to pee so bad it looks like water coming from a fire hose?

Well, as we are standing there peeing, another person enters the restroom and then gets comfortable in the stall next to us. I glance over as Luke loudly chats about his pee saying things like, "See, I don't need to use my hands, Mom." and I see white crocs in the stall next to me. As I'm standing there watching the fire hose with wonder, a noise comes from the stall next to me - yes, that kind of bathroom noise. Luke's eyes get wide, he gasps and says with a laugh and a smile, "Mom! That was a farting noise! Eeeww!" Now, as soon as I predicted what he was going to say, I quickly covered his mouth with my hand so that his words "farting noise" came out muffled, and I quickly said, "No, that was just the door closing." Did I cover that quickly enough? Apparently, not, because Luke was still laughing as he finished peeing and began pulling up his Spiderman underwear. And sadly, I had to try to keep a smile off of my face as I recognized us approaching an age where my kid loves bathroom humor.

Even on the soccer field this weekend, we parents watched as three boys cracked themselves up during a water break trading lines like, "It's a poo-poo head." and "No, it's a big gummy poo-poo farting head" and they go on and on. The laugh is a distinguished laugh denoting that the joke is clearly one involving bathroom humor. Do men ever get over these? Will poop and farting always remain so funny?

P.S. happy birthday to my dear friend Crystal who is celebrating her second 29th birthday!

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