Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Always, always make the kids pee before leaving the house.

I decided today that the kids have been in the house too long and that we would walk down to the playground and get some exercise. I always make each of them pee before we leave the house, but since we were right around the corner and no one said they had to go, I decided that I wouldn't press the issue. We all got our shoes and jackets on and I asked one more time, "Before we go, does anyone have to pee?".

They all said no. Of course.

So we walk down to the playground and we are there literally five minutes and Cora walks up and says that she has to pee. I call her over and tell her that there isn't a bathroom there so we would need to go NOW because we had to walk the couple blocks home.

Not wanting to leave the playground, she insisted that she didn't need to pee that badly and that she really, really wanted to stay. Alright. Fine. We will stay like another 15 minutes and then head back.

We play a couple minutes, them asking me to pick them up and carry them across the monkey bars (me putting in 95% of the effort and starting to perspire) and I tell them that they are the ones who need to get out the excess energy because, let's face it, I have none to spare.

So I sit down, trying to listen to my iPod, the only part of the playground that I actually enjoy, and Holden comes up, grabs the headphones and has a full blown, throw himself on the ground, meltdown when I will not let him dictate what we are listening to.

As he bashed his fists on the ground, flailed his limbs and screeched, I see Cora out the corner of my eye.

My God. She doesn't have pants on. What the hell is she doing?!? 

So I left Holden to his temper tantrum, ran across the playground to pull Cora's pants up and she screams "I peed, Mommy!" She had pee all over her hands and her pants. Fuck.

So I had to have a battle of wills with a urine-soaked kid, trying to explain to her "Mommy knows your pants are wet, kid. But if I allow you to stay bottomless in public, I will get arrested and go to jail and you will all end up spending what could be a few traumatic hours with a social worker...."

So I had to run back to Holden, scoop his tantruming-ass off the ground, call Phoenix over to me while holding Cora's pissy hand and tell them all that we had to get the hell outta there.

So we all walked the three blocks back to our house, Cora smelling of fresh homeless person, Holden throwing a fit and Phoenix, having grazed one of Cora's fingers, refusing to hold anyone's hand.

Can't we ever leave the house without some sort of public decency violation?

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