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You Look Like An Angel, But I Got Wise

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Semele's Riches: You Look Like An Angel, But I Got Wise

Semele's Riches

Adventures in handmade childhood.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

You Look Like An Angel, But I Got Wise

Abandon ship! It's every man for himself!
Between the automatic flush mechanisms most of them sport and the ever so much more fascinating things going on outside them, it's not unusual for Ian to refuse to go potty in public restrooms.  Today, in fact, was such a day.  He was having trouble walking he was trying to "hold it" so hard.  And Mommy foolishly, oh SO foolishly, insisted it was time to go to the bathroom.

You'll be needing that fire truck, bucko.
Please take note of this moment, for in it was authored Mommy's Waterloo.  Trust me, I went down in flames.  Big, hot, scary ones.  I promise you, from now on, I will just let him wet his pants.  And if there doesn't happen to be an acceptable change of clothing on board, or if his shoes are so full of pee that we have to evacuate, I'll rest easy in the knowledge that it could be so much worse.

MAYDAY! MAYDAY! We're going down!
He cried all the way to the bathroom, insisting he didn't have to go.  He was clutching my hand in his right hand, and his penis with his left.  Pardon me for not believing him.  If only, OH IF ONLY I had said, "Oh, okay then!" and let him keep playing.  But no, I just continued to usher him to the restroom while repeating encouraging things about how much better he'd feel after he went.  (Lies, if only I'd known.)

It wasn't all bad.
Guess who's tall enough to reach the overhead bars now?

We arrived at the restroom with my child now shrieking that he did NOT have to go potty.  I'm talking about those "I would like the ground to open and swallow me so all the people staring at us will not realize I am your mother" type shrieking.  Of course, he was also crossing his legs and bending double, so again, I allowed this opportunity to escape my fate pass me by.  Instead, I helped him off with his shoes and continued to be encouraging as I got his pants halfway down.

Friends will rescue you after the shipwreck
At this point, still shrieking "I DO NOT HAVE TO GO POTTY!" over and over and over and OVER again, my son began to urinate.  I am still amazed that a 30 pound person is capable of containing this much urine. It was unbelievable.  Picture an out of control fire hose with no one to turn it off.  He peed on the walls.  He peed on his pants, his boots, the snack bag, Mommy's water cup, Mommy's leg, and Mommy's foot.  He peed on the floor.  He may have, purely by accident, hit the toilet once or twice.  At about the point where he peed down my leg, I lost it.  Suddenly, I was the one shrieking those "if only the ground would swallow me" embarrassments.  "IAN!  THIS IS WHY WE DO NOT TRY TO HOLD IT!  YES, I CAN TELL YOU DON'T NEED TO GO POTTY!  THAT'S WHY YOU'RE GOING POTTY ALL OVER THE WALLS!"  At which point Ian switched from screaming, "I DO NOT HAVE TO GO POTTY" to "MOMMY! I AM HAVING AN ACCIDENT!"  Sadly, Mommy did not calm down and respond to this declaration appropriately.  Instead, I screamed back, "YOU ARE D**N RIGHT YOU ARE HAVING AN ACCIDENT!"

Obviously at this point I was well able to identify not only that I had lost it, but that this was all my own fault.  I sat my half naked, wailing child on the bench while I ran all our pee-soaked belongings under the sink faucet.  Then I carried him, still half naked, along with an additional 15 pounds of urine soaked STUFF to the car.  Thankfully there was an appropriate change of clothing for him in there, and just as thankfully he had only peed on the outside of his shoes, because as soon as I'd changed him into clean clothing I frog-marched him to my nearest friend and told her I needed her to take him for 10 minutes so I could get my s*** together.  Okay, I didn't use that word in front of the kids, but she knew I was thinking it.  Then I went back to the restroom where I was, at least, spared having anyone witness the coup de grace of my humiliation- me standing at the sink in my underpants while I washed pee out of my jeans.
Clear sailing again at last

So, just in case you're wondering, the other 23 hours and 55 minutes of this day were beautiful.  Ian was charming, sweet, polite, and adorable.  He said "excuse me" when he walked in front of another patron at the store without being prompted.  He had a nice lunch and a lovely afternoon with Rama and Raba.  He loved running around the "road" at the playground.   So Mommy isn't fired after all.

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