I Think I’m Done With Pee

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In my house, aside from 2 devil possessed children, there are 4 fantastically furry cats. The two oldest are brother and sister, and I regret to say that they managed to have a litter together before they could get fixed. But that’s totally normal in the animal kingdom right? Right? Any who, the other two are mother and son. The mother came to us as a knocked up alley cat. Her name, Putana. It’s Greek for slut. Perfect.

After Putana came into the house and decided to give birth under my couch my oldest female decided that was the perfect time to start peeing……on everything. She pees on toys, dishes, backpacks, bathmats, blankets, clean clothes, dirty clothes……..me. You name it, she has peed on it. I was dealing ok with it until she peed on my last week.

I heard scratching in the kids playroom so I poked my head in to see what was going on. There she was with her furry butt in the box of Thomas the Train toys. I flew across the room and snatched her up! Did you know that cats, much like infants, don’t stop peeing when you pick them up? Neither did I. I looked down and saw yellow cat pee running down my leg onto my foot (so glad I don’t wear shoes in the house). We zip through the toy room, through the kitchen, down the hallway, and into the laundry room where the cat box is. She was done by the time we got there, and there was a nice long stream following us through all the rooms.

“This is the last straw, you’re done!” I yelled. One week later and she’s still here.

After the shock of being peed on wore off and a shower was had, it was time for bed. All minions were tucked in for the night and I was on my way there. I snuggle down into the middle of my bed, surrounded by big fluffy pillows and drift off to dream land……or so I thought.

“Mommy. Mommy. Mommy……….I has to pee.” says a little voice from next to the night stand. I reluctantly roll out of bed and pick my son up. “You have to pee?” “Yup.” “Ok.” And down the stairs we head. Half way down I feel my side get really warm. Really really warm. “Theo? Did you just pee on me?” “Uh huh.” Awesome. Did you know that 3 year olds, much like cats, don’t stop peeing on you even after you ask them about it? Neither did I.

Twice, twice in less than 6 hours. By two different beings. By two different species even. Just my luck. I am officially done with pee and taking applications for volunteers who would like to get peed on. Pheobe starts potty training in less than a year so if this position can be filled by then it would be great. Thanks.

A Scoop Of Poop Anyone?

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As any mother will tell you getting ice cream as a family when you have kids is always an experience! Especially when they don’t know how to wipe their own butts.

It’s Friday, what better thing for a family of 4 to do than to go get ice cream? So that’s just what we did! Huge heaping servings of chocolate, soft serve vanilla, coconut, and heath bar were served up in cones and dishes. I am the mom, I got a cone because I have good positive control! Right?

Five minutes into our ice cream feast Theo looks up at me with those panicked eyes that I know too well. “I have to poop!” Loud and proud in the middle of the ice cream shop.  We hurry off to the bathroom, and close the door behind us. Once the door is closed and I see Theo standing there with a look of distress in his eyes with his pants around his ankles….standing next to a toilet that looks 3 feet high.  I move forward to help and it dawns on me that I am holding my double decker coconut and heath bar cone in my hand.

Now what? Seriously? Am I really stuck in here in this dilemma? I lift him up with my left hand and stand there wondering if it is acceptable to eat my cone while waiting for my son to finish pooping. I lick…..I sniff…..not a good idea! “I’m done!” Great! Record time! I go to grab the toilet paper (ice cream still in hand). No tp on the little roll. No tp on the left large roll. No tp on the right large roll. No tp on the back of the toilet! Are you serious?!?!?!?!

What to do. Poop in the 3yr old’s butt and an ice cream in hand. I’m Totally going to be busted publicy for eating in the bathroom! I then slink out with my cone behind my back and a 3yr old still sitting on the toilet (confused at this point). I quietly ask for a roll of tp and slink my way back into the bathroom, ice cream still in hand.

Once behind closed doors i can breath a sigh of relief. I then begin to pull the wrapper off the tp. Not working with ice cream in hand. I then start looking for some kind of magic ice cream cone holder as if all ice cream shops would run into this problem with their patrons. Nothing. I look at the electric hand drier. No. I look at the sink. No. I look at the tp holder. Eww, no. I am then left with no choice but to slink out again with ice cream in hand.

I go up to my husband and ask him to hold my cone, knowing it will not be anywhere close to it’s original state when I come out of the bathroom for good in another 2 minutes. Back in to the bathroom again. I help my son wipe his butt (the high light of all my days) and then go to flush the toilet.

I look down and notice the poop is dangerously close to the front of the water. I cross my fingers and flush. The poop sits there like concrete in a wind storm. I go to flush again. Damn water saving toilets!!!!! Why do you not fill up quickly?!?!?! I wait 30 seconds and try to flush again. Nothing. Meanwhile my son is getting fidgety and wants to know why he can’t continue to enjoy his chocolate goodness waiting for him at the table. “Wait a minute Theo, Mommy is trying to fix the toilet.” “Fix the toilet?” “Yes.” “My poop broke the toilet?” “Yes.” A look of shock.

I try to flush again. I give up! If we’re in there any longer people are going to start to wonder. I go back out to the counter and hand them the bathroom key. I look to the floor and say, “My son clogged the toilet with his poop. Sorry.” and walked away. The 3 teenagers behind the counter giggle and start to color on a piece of paper.

All the giggling and scribbling produced an “Out Of Order” sign for the bathroom door. I try to explain to them that really all they have to do is try to flush it again. As if a 17 year old wants to hear that! “It’s ok, we’ll just leave the sign up.”

Five minutes later a family walks in. They need to use the bathroom. Awesome.

Do Exactly As I Say

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My house only has one air conditioned room, the living room. This leaves the rest of the house to feel like the face of the sun, HOT! Needless to say all things that breath congregate in the living room (dubbed the Awesome Room) as much as possible. Because of the fact that there is limited space in the “Awesome Room” we try to keep the majority of the kid’s toys on the face of the sun.

Last night my son decided that he wanted to play with his trains in the “Awesome Room”. When asked if he could play with them I said yes he could. I then noticed that he wanted to play with ALL his trains (there are upward of 50 or so). I stopped him before he could maneuver the large box of trains from the playroom to the living room. “You can play with your trains, but you can’t bring the box into the living room.” Those are the words that were formed in my brain and came out of my mouth. “Ok Mommy.” Followed by a huge grin.

Two minutes later I hear what sounds like a waterfall of trains. I turn to look toward the doorway of the living room and see all the trains dumped over the threshold and onto the living room carpet. The box was still out in the hallway.

Next time I will form my words a little better.

Squash: The Sneaky Vegetable

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The dinner plates were on the table and my son was ready and waiting to start eating. His smile was so big as I set the plates of food on the table, he looked so happy to “finally” be able to eat! I smiled back at him and then turned to head back in the kitchen for the silver wear.  When I returned the summer squash from my son’s plate was gone, and a satisfied look was on his face. I couldn’t control myself, “Theo, you ate all your summer squash!”

“Mmhm, Mommy.”

“Wow! I’m so proud of you!”

After the joy mellowed out I noticed his eyes going back and forth between his plate and the donor’s. “Do you want more?”

“Umm, no Mommy.”

Giggle. “No more.” Giggle.

I look at the donor’s plate…….there on top of his summer squash were three pieces with finger prints in them. My son’s eyebrows then went up. Evidently my son’s belly has a direct path to the donor’s plate. Sneaky little bastard.

Penis: It’s a Boy Thing

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The other day I looked at my son who was pulling on his penis. When I asked him if he had to pee he said no, and walked away. He came back into the room 5 minutes later doing the same thing. “Theo, do you have to pee?” “No Mommy.” And off he went again only to return in another 5 minutes.  This time his penis was hanging out over the top of his pants.  “Theo, what are you doing?” “My penis was hiding.” “Hiding?” “Yes, in my pants.” “What is it doing now?” He looks down. “Nothing,” and walks away.

A few days later my son kept running into the kitchen with his penis hanging out over his pants yelling, “PENIS” while shaking it around.  My conclusion, he penis was done hiding and wanted to play peek a boo.  I asked no questions that day, instead I pretended to act surprised every time he came around the corner yelling “PENIS!”