Just about 2 more weeks left before I return to work and I have to admit that after Monday, right around 8:30 in the morning, I was positively longing for it. Mostly because there were people there that I could effectively communicate with. Most of the time, that is. And even if I did have to deal with cranky patients all day, surely that would be better than what I had just gone through.
I’m sure you are curious. Let me just say it involves urine. And a lot of it. If you aren’t that interested in reading about pee then I suggest you stop now. Because pretty much that’s what this whole post is about…
My son is a bit of a handful, to say the least. And upon reflection, that really might be all boys/girls/children right on the cusp of 4. I am pretty sure I’ve talked about this before, sorry if it’s boring. But I know you parents out there with children around this age are sympathizing. And drinking.
Vince has A LOT of energy. And A LOT of drama. And a NEW BABY SISTER. And a MUMMY WHO NEEDS MORE SLEEP. And I do my very best to keep him entertained and engaged as the days pass. We do some crafts, some scissor skills things, practice tracing letters and numbers. We do regular outings to the library and used book stores. We do all sorts of stuff.
So I figured Monday was going to be something busy. You know, because I plan Monday on Monday morning. Except I woke up exhausted and could barely get out of bed. What was that all about? I have no idea. Somehow I managed to bribe Vince to snuggling in my bed and watching Phineas and Ferb while Mummy slept. And then, once I was done that, take a shower. And it while I was taking that illicit shower that it began.
“Mummy, I have an owie in my tummy. Mummy, my tummy hurts. Mummy. Mummy. Mummy. Mummy! Mummy! Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!!!!!! I HAVE AN OWIE!”
He did not have to do either of the following: Number one or Number two. Those dastardly culprits usually are the cause.
As it turns out, it was ‘being four’.
And it continued once I was out of the shower and managed to get downstairs. The 3 of us hit the downstairs and Vince was, literally, throwing himself on the floor. And then picking himself up (all while screaming, of course) and throwing himself down again. While this was going on, his sister was crying And I still wasn’t sure what was going on. His tummy hurt, but as it turned out it was because he was hungry (drama king!) and he went to grab a pureed fruit squeezy from the fridge until I could get him sorted out.
And the crying didn’t stop. From either of them. And so I tried to juggle mixing a bottle and making breakfast. My skills were lacking, as evidenced by both of my childrens vocal performance.s
But that crying and wailing from him was getting worse and worse. More and more dramatic. And so very, very awful. It reached the point where I had asked him to stop crying so many times that finally I said what clearly doomed me: “I can’t make you breakfast until you stop crying”. {cue intensified wailing}
Doom.
And after a little bit more conversational wails, things erupted.
Vince squared his little chubby legs, fixed his face into glare of pure ‘I am SO mad at you’ and peed all over my floor.
PEED.
Fully clothed and glaring, he continued to pee while I continued to feed his sister while saying things like “Are you peeing?!” and “Oh my god, you are peeing!” and “Oh my god”. And the puddle grew and spread and I sat on the couch and did nothing and he stood there and glared at me.
Party>my life
That child of mine was marched up to his room so quickly there was a vapor trail. And he stayed there while I cleaned up the mess and his sister watched me with interest from her rocker.
We had one of those really amazing conversations after the business was cleaned up: ‘Where do we pee?’ ‘In the potty!!’ ‘Do we pee on the floor?’ ‘NO! That’s yucky!’ ‘Who pees on the floor? ‘Chewie the dog!’ ‘But not boys, right?’ ‘NOOOOOO! Boys pee in the potty!’
Ugh. Monday. You can be such a total jerk.
xoxo a.m.
One Lovely Atlantic Mama and family 