Momscapades: Urine and other unique mediums

Becoming a mother has enlightened me to the most beautiful moments in time. Becoming a mother has also enlightened me to the most disgusting moments in time. My dear son, or as the motherhood forums call them, “ds”, has enlightened me so very much. 

When boys are born, they are born with their first toy: their penis. This appendage is something to be treasured. It’s a toy your mother cannot take from you. Boys find this out very early. My “ds” started tugging on his surprisingly hard within his first few months of life. “Is it supposed to move like that?” I would ask my husband. He would momentarily step into the bathroom, and test it out. Presumably because his mother told him never to do that again, and his mother is German and can roll her th’s and r’s and all those other letters that I’ve never been able to roll in a way that will make you crap your pants, so the man stopped grabbing his penis at a young age. He returned from the bathroom stating that while a penis can “move like that,” it should not. Try explaining this to a six month old. 

Luckily with infants under a year old, you get to see the pediatrician often. So I asked our trusty doctor. “Doctor, is it ok that my son grabs his penis like he is about to use it as a microphone for a rock concert?” Our doctor was totally unphased by this question and quickly answered, “Yes, this is normal,” like he has been asked this particular question thousands of times before. Are you telling me that boys were created knowing they would have the attention span of a bat and given a toy to play with at any given moment of the day? Genius. Well played God. Well. Played. 

Though I haven’t had to ask my son to stop touching his penis like that in a while, I have had a urine situation. Let’s back this up. A few years back I began potty training my son. I found an incredibly easy solution. Let him pee off the deck. Boom. “Potty trained” in three days. Well, he was potty trained as long as he was on the deck and peeing. Pooping was a whole different story, but I licked that in about a month. Basically I mommed the shit out of that and should write a parenting book. 

Well, it seems I created an obsession. It was when he was three that I heard the window of my room open. I walked upstairs to see what flavor of poltergeist had moved in, only to find my sweet son pissing out my second story window. 

Me: What the F… *Ahem… adjust to nice mom voice* What are you doing? 

Son: Making pee designs in the snow. 

Me: *Looks out window and silently admiring his artistic pee designs in the snow of our main floor roof. Silently applauding his honesty. Trying to come up with a clever way to post this on facebook without defaming his penis.*

Also Me: You can never do that again. Now put your pants back on and go sit in timeout. 

Months later we had a party at our home in the summer. My husband had his latest triathlon team at the house and all the kids were playing. One of the boys ran out of the bushes and screamed, “Nikolas pooped in the bushes!” So I asked my darling three year old son if this was true. He stood tall and proudly pointed me in the right direction. He said, “Mom, I pooped just like the dogs!!” 

But you have to wipe…

But you can’t just poop in the yard… 

But the dogs are special... 

No, you are definitely more special than the dogs... 

It’s just… 

Listen, you just can’t do it. I’m not answering any more questions. Go wipe your ass and change your underwear. 

The mom of those children remind me of that incident everytime I see her. Oh joy, my son’s poop is our connection. I think this friendship is over.  

I ended up placing my son in an in home daycare twice a week to help with my sanity. I mean, at first it was because I was “working,” but then it became a necessity for naptime for myself. Because moms with small children are primarily superheroes and superheroes need naps too. Especially without wondering what kind of damage Lois is getting into this time. 

What I had not considered was that this in home daycare had four boys all the same age and similar energy levels. The older of the four was the ringleader and my son’s “best friend.” My son has now been at this daycare for three years with the same four boys. It has become quite the situation. 

The ring leader also has an older brother, so whatever I was afraid my kid would learn in school, he has learned in preschool. At least I can tell his kindergarten teacher that he is advanced.  I’m sure that will go well. 

“Mrs. Shively, you have to understand he has been around older children and understands poop jokes much better than the other children. He is just advanced for his age.” 

While his daycare provider has been very hush hush about any shenanigans during daycare, my “ds” has come home with a few new ideas. Mainly, friends that pee together, stay together. 

I had a friend come over with her son for a play date a few weeks back. Everything seemed to be going well so, as mom do, we got sidetracked and stopped watching the kids. Listen, if you are going to come after me for not watching my childs every move in my own backyard, we are going to have words. No mom has time for that. And if she does, she is on some serious medication, because my eyes get tired darting back and forth and, quite frankly, the kids need to play. MK… soapbox end. Anyway, this lovely mom sends me a message the next day, “My son had a great time, he said his favorite part was peeing together with your son.”

So I guess that is it. If he invites you to pee with him in nature, you are in. While I’m partially concerned that he asks all these boys to pee with him in nature, I’m more concerned that he has never asked me to join him. Does that mean I’m not in? I know, it’s just the beginning. 

Parenting is such a battle between wanting your kid to love you to wanting your kid to hate you. I complain about my kid being bipolar… but it all starts with the chicken. Or is it the egg. Listen, I know I’m crazy. And I admit to taking medication. My medication makes me an amazing mom and wife so I make no apologies. Too bad that same medication doesn’t make me love doing the dishes. 

So we are at my son’s second birthday party at a public park near a splash pad. I hear a woman yelling, “HEY, that kid is peeing on the grass.” I turn to see it’s my child. I immediately turn away because what am I honestly going to do … stop him mid-stream? We talked later and I explained that he could only pee in a private place with no people around. 

I’d like you for a moment to try to explain to a toddler why his pride and joy– his penis– must be hidden from public view. 

When God spoke to Adam and Eve and “they” became shamed. I believe only Eve became shamed, then she looked at Adam with “the look” and he immediately covered up.

This brings me to a story of when my son was three, right after our daughter came home. I was smelling pee in his room and asked him about it. He straight up offered me an answer, “Well Mom, I’ve been peeing under my bed.”

Me: Whaaaaat The F… *ahem… sweet mom voice* … why? 

Him: It’s fun.

Me: How?

Him: Gets under his bed and into pushup position. “Then I just pee.” 

Me: *Secretly impressed with his physical fitness and ability to hold mid-pushup while peeing*

Also Me: How long has this been going on? 

Him: A REALLY long time Mom. 

Me: Ok, well we can’t do that anymore. 

Him: Why?

Me: Because now the carpet smells. 

Him: I don’t care. 

Me: I do. 

Him: But it’s my room.

Me: This conversation is over.

Do not negotiate with terrorists. 

We had the cleaners come in and clean the carpet and double spot check the entire room. 

Fast forward two years later. I have two children running in opposite directions and just started noticing that my sons room again smells like pee. Now, is it new pee or the old pee? How fresh is the pee smell? Of course I took my nasal senses to dog level and smelled every corner. I then made my husband do the same thing. We both decided it was the fish tank we refused to clean. “The fish that will never die.” I swear I got a fish when I was 25 and couldn’t keep it alive for a week, yet this kid can keep his fish alive for a year. Unbelievable. It must be the fish. I’ve never smelled a year old fish before so it has to be the fish. 

As I walked into my “ds’s” room to read him a bedtime book, I catch him standing pee position at the footboard of his bed. 

Me: What are you doing? 

Him: Nothing. 

I investigate. Liquid dripping from the footboard of HIS BED onto a lovely articulate wet circle I could only assume was urine…unless of course he carried a squirt gun in his pants which would not surprise me. 

The key to my son: do not freak out and he will speak truth. 

Me: So, how long have you been peeing on your bed?

Him: A long time.

Me: And why do you do it?

Him: I don’t know, it’s fun. 

Me: Are you mad?

Him: No.

Me: Are you bored?

Him: No

Me: Why do you pee in your room?

Him: I like making designs on the floor. 

Me: Can you make designs outside in the grass?

Him: No. You can’t see the designs in the grass. 

Me: Can you please stop peeing in your room?

Him: I don’t mind the smell. 

Me: Stop peeing in your room. 

Do not argue with terrorists. 

And for fucks sake, get waterproof ceramic floors for the boy’s room.