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Sunday, January 17, 2010

Urine 101

I am really trying to get into this parenting thing. I am. It's just that I have a few general issues with it (and while I don't feel like I need to qualify that statement, I will. All you mamas out there know that you love your child with a wild and fierce passion that scares you a little, but doesn't take away from the facts of your daily and non-glamorous mama's life).

Take poop and pee for example. I'm not even a fan of my own. When I was pregnant with Bug Dub (as I have fondly pet named my 8 month old, pet named being appropriate as I clean up his poo just like I do the dog's) I had issues with pooping in front of him. It was kind of embarrassing, sharing EVERYTHING with the kiddo, even the gnarliest of prego bowel movements. Is nothing sacred?

Then there's urine. Yep, urine. There is a lot more of that than there is of poop. My first real experience with the urine was when Big Dub was about two weeks old. I had been through 36 hours of labor, didn't get an epi until 9 cm dialated and 30 hours of labor, ending in my exhausted being, and Big Dub's extra large noggin, meeting the forceps. My husband, bless his heart, tried to help the best he could. He is not one who functions under stress or severe sleep deprivation and struggled to find his niche after Big Dub made his appearance.

My husband was attempting to change the little chicken legs' diaper while I did the heavy onlooking and gave words of encouragement from the sidelines. Big Dub was screaming bloody murder while his dad fumbled with every step of the routine diaper change. Out of nowhere came the steady and surprisingly forceful stream of luminous urine.

Right into my husband's eye.

So he did what any good dad would do... he deflected. Put his hand up to block the urine from stinging his already bloodshot, dry and tired eyes, and thus managed to redirect the urine right back into Big Dub's own face. Big Dub, of course, started screaming with even more enthusiasm and gusto.

And I, not to be outdone by Big Dub's urine antics, promptly laughed harder than I had since his birth, and just as promptly realized that if there was a scale for bladder control I would be in the negative, far surpassing the century old geezers, feeling the warmth on my thighs.

I laughed so hard at the fact that I had just peed my own pants, that I choked to trying to tell my husband who was in that state of hysteria that is laughing but precariously perched on the edge of crying, pleading for my help with the newest addition to our family.

We survived the family pee-on and have since shared numerous bodily function experiences; my personal favorite being projectile shat on with breast milk poo, this indignity after actually showering, straightening my hair, putting on makeup and a new clean top, one that I really liked and did not make me feel like a walrus (by the way, I was a safe distance from Bug Dub's bum while changing him and I will forever marvel at how he was able to go the distance on that one).

I can only imagine that in the years to come I will be presented with even more encounters of the human excrement kind. Almost daily I see my walls crumble, little by little, and my ability and willingness to share such bodily functions with those I love most increasing.

And with that, a thought... I will survive.

I'm just and average mama who's not afraid to say all the things you know you are thinking.  Or just not smart enough to keep my mouth shut.
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