Wednesday, August 18, 2010

WARNING. This post contains way TMI.

My bladder is smaller than the average bear’s. And not just because I’m pregnant. It’s the way I’ve always been. I’m the last person you want riding shotgun on a road trip. Unless, of course, you enjoy stopping every 1.5 hours. Poor Brian. He’s a very patient man.

So for this reason, I’ve spent most of the past 3 years dehydrated. Purposefully not drinking anything, so that when I’m out with the boys, I don’t have to drag the three of them with me to the bathroom.

And now that I’m pregnant, my bladder has become the bane of my existence. No longer can I be dehydrated (causes contractions or something). And Baby 4 dances on my bladder, so I have to pee constantly.

Should be no big deal, right? The boys are also using the potty, so they should understand when mommy has to go.

Yeah right. Here are my options for going with the boys in tow.

Option #1: Clown Car, wherein all 4 of us cram into one stall. As I pee, Charlie does his best to stuff toilet paper around my butt down into the toilet. Cooper gets down on the fecal floor and tries to crawl out, and (I am cringing as I write this) Zach likes to open and shut the metal box on the stall wall (you know the one I am talking about. Holy disgusting). And all this is happening as I am hovering over the seat, yelling at them to STOP and swatting hands. Then I have to spend the next 10 minutes scrubbing them down at the sink. (Hard to believe I used to be one of those folks who only used her elbows to open the bathroom stalls).

Option #2: The Freeze Game. Once, at the library, I locked myself into the stall and demanded the three of them “stand frozen in front of this door; do not move an inch; do not touch anything; do not lick anything.” The second I pulled down my pants and squatted, I heard giggles, then the main bathroom door open and shut. And just like that, 2 of them had escaped back into the library. I ran out of the bathroom, pants barely pulled up, Cooper in one hand, and the boys’ urine splattered foldable potty seat in the other (yes, I carry one of these wherever I go, and no, I was not using it, but I had it out because the boys had just gone). I just ignored the stares.

Option #3: Let It All Hang Out. So now, I usually just leave the stall door open when I go, keeping an eye on my crew. That’s right.  (Sorry lady at Bruegger's this afternoon).  No modesty here. I left that back at the hospital 3 years ago when I was on a bedpan for 4 weeks. Compared to having your husband changing that thing… this ain’t nothin’. 

So, in the course of 3 1/2 years, I have gone from writing legal briefs and developing trial strategies to strategically planning how to use a public bathroom stall in the company of my three lovely children. Guess I’ll need new strategy when Baby 4 arrives. Or maybe then I’ll just go back to being dehydrated.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Busy, busy boys. Tired, tired mama.

Hello everyone! Contrary to popular belief, I actually have not fallen off the face of the earth. Here’s what I’ve been busy doing (and the reason I have not been blogging):

1. Asking the boys if they have to go potty. Every 5 minutes.

2. Forcing boys who “do not” have to go potty to go potty, only to realize the reason they don’t have to go potty is because they already have. In their pants. Which they claim, are nice and dry.  (In all fairness to the boys, though, we went an entire day today with ZERO accidents! Progress!!)

3. Trying to remember why we thought it was a good idea to move the boys into big-boy beds. (See #'s 4-11 below).

4. Explaining to Cooper that stuffed toys do not need lotion, no matter how dry their fur feels.  (This explanation was necessary upon discovering, at 6:30 a.m., that Cooper emptied an entire bottle of Cetaphil onto his bed, the floor, and his stuffed moose.)

5. Upon realizing the danger that one bottle of lotion posed, clearing the boys’ bedroom of all items not nailed to the wall. Such as furniture and rugs. (Except, regretfully, their dresser. See # 12)

6. Cursing the fact that human feces are not of that category. See #7.

7. Figuring out the best way to clean Zach poop off the walls. And the blinds. And the floor.  And the bed.  (We’ve had 6 episodes now of poop painting). I wish I were kidding

8.  Determining that duct tape, not time out, is the best way to keep Zach from painting himself and the walls with poop.

9. Convincing Zach that the silver belt we make him wear every night is magic.

10. Creating matching silver belts for everyone, every night.  And removing them in the mornings.

11. Crying in frustration when I realized what “napping” boys will do to EVERY PIECE OF CLOTHING IN THEIR DRESSER when the drawers are not taped shut.

The boys sleep with a gate in their doorway.  The clothes were thrown over the gate.  When I found the mess, I closed the door, and counted to 10.  And got the camera.


12.  Cleaning up after our trip to the park after a torrential rain.  That is (or was) a sandbox.  

13. Helping the boys choose career paths. The other day Charlie told Brian he wanted to be a knee doctor. Cooper said he wanted to be "the letter O.”

14.  Trying to convince myself that I am a better (and smarter) person for watching every episode of all of the Real Housewives seasons.

15. Ignoring the looks from people watching Charlie belt out “Dancing Queen” in the frozen section of the Teeter.

16. Watching Cooper and Zach perfect their dance moves.

17. Watching my boys – who are best buddies – imaginary play every day. I love eating their dirt macaroni and accepting rocks in payment for juice boxes. I love watching them drive:

"You gotta be kidding me Zach.  Roll down a window!"
18. Wondering whether I will survive a 4th boy. It is confirmed. Another boy!! 

19.  More importantly, wondering if this development means I will have to start pretending I like sports.

20. Worrying that the volume of Cheetos I’ve been eating will have an adverse affect on Baby 4. If he looks like an oompaloompa, I guess we have our answer.