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Spit in my face and piss on my shoe

Posted by on July 16, 2012

Can anyone tell me what this represents?:

 

0

 

Show of hands.

No one? Ok, I’ll just tell you. The above 0 is the approximate size of my son’s bladder.

Actually, I’m being generous. His bladder is a little smaller than that. I haven’t actually given the boy an ultrasound or cut him open to see his miniscule bladder. I’m basing my assumption on the fact that he has to pee every seven minutes – eight if he hasn’t had anything to drink in a while.

No – he’s not diabetic. He’s just got a really small bladder. And he’s annoying.

This peeing-every-few-minutes thing is relatively new. I’m pretty sure it started with the thrill of realizing he could pee outside if he sounded desperate enough, and now it has become a habit. I will encourage everyone to pee before we leave the house, then without fail, when we are mid-way through our family walk Brecken will wail that he HAS to go pee RIGHT NOW. He knows we’re going to tell him he can go pee in the bushes.

In the recent past he has peed in the following places:

*Too many bushes to count

*The parking structure at the mall

*The side of the road

*Countless random toilets throughout the city

The reason I think he is insisting on peeing in public to fan the flames of his exhibitionism is because every time I manage to find a toilet during one of his I HAVE TO PEE melt-downs, he pees MAYBE 3 drops of urine. Or not at all. The parking structure incident mentioned above was less than 4 minutes after he had stood in front of a toilet and said, “Never mind. I was joking. I don’t have to pee.” (Minutes before that we had been standing in line at The Golden Spoon and he started screaming that he had to pee. SCREAMING mind you. I think “ice cream parlor” is on his list of places in which to pee before he reaches his majority and can be jailed for the act.)

The title of this post probably isn’t making much sense just now. You see, I had planned to tell you about the birthday party I had to endure on Saturday. I’ll give you the short version. Hell, I’ll tell it in list form:

*It was a million degrees outside.

*It was at a ginormous, unfamiliar park. (Brecken peed in two bathrooms as we sought out the shelter where the party was being held.)

*We were the first to arrive. (Don’t you hate being the first to arrive at a kid party? I do.)

*The birthday boy was bouncing in a bounce-house. Brecken immediately joined him. I stood peering into the bounce-house and the birthday boy came right over to me and blew a wet, spitty raspberry right in my face.

*I punched the little bastard through the mesh of the bounce-house. No I didn’t. But I wanted to.

*Instead I scowled at him in my best nanny-in-the-trenches way and said, “Hey, that’s enough! Don’t spit at people. That’s completely unacceptable behavior.”

*His eyes got really big and he looked at me like I was holding a bloody knife. But you know what? The little shit didn’t spit on anyone else – at least not on my watch.

* I tried to make conversation with a few moms that obviously knew each other. I was blatantly snubbed. Blatantly.

*I tried again, thinking I could win them over with my charm. Nope. Snubbed again.

*I told them to go fuck themselves, then I stormed away. No I didn’t. But I wanted to.

*Instead I mentally chanted some Stuart Smalley motivational gems and went to play with the kids in the field.

*There were 3 giant beach balls. The first thing I did was accidentally kick one into Brecken’s face hard enough to knock him over. That helped to cement my standing with the other parents present. Clearly I was a kind, responsible peer.

*We had to leave early so Brecken could get to Karate in time to completely ignore the sensei and sing and dance his way through what was supposed to be a quiet lesson in an ancient Japanese martial art.

*Right as we’re leaving I meet the only other cool and inviting couple in Orange County. I hope they didn’t get snubbed by the others after I left.

*Brecken peed in any toilets we hadn’t hit on the way in.

*I dropped him off with his father and sister, telling my husband in my sweetest voice, “You’re going to the next kid party. Don’t look at me like that.” Then I sped off to the magical land of Hollywood and improv classes and 90 minute car rides of blessed solitude.

 

The End.

What did YOU do on Saturday Internet? Pee in any good parking structures lately?

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2 Responses to Spit in my face and piss on my shoe

  1. Amy Cappelli

    It was a crabby weekend and I was pissy but I did not pee on anything or anyone. And, I haven’t been peed on since Violet urine bombed me in Target two weeks ago. That was my one small consolation of the weekend.

    Kids parties are the worst. That’s why I don’t allow my kids to have friends. Saves us from invitations to gawd awful birthday parties.

    [Reply]

    Kristy Reply:

    Hold on Amy – I need to get a pen and write this down. Don’t…let…them…make….friends.
    Perfect! Where were you last week when I accepted the forsaken invitation? I’m counting on you to stop me before I get in to these situations in the first place! Stay vigilant!

    Also, every day I go into Target and DON’T get peed on is a good day.

    [Reply]

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