Do you know what words I dread hearing the most?
“Mommy, I gotta go potty?”
I hate those words with a passion, not because I hate the action of going potty. Although, at times, I think it is a lot of work depending on how many pairs of Spanx I have on that day. No, I hate those words because nine times out of ten they are uttered when there is no bathroom around.
These words are spoken 13 minutes after leaving the house, store or gas station where a bathroom was wonderfully accessible or they are spoken 8 minutes after I have said, “Ok, it’s time to go. Make sure you all go potty” to which all the kids reply, “I don’t have to go!”
I don’t know if the signal from their bladders to their brains is blocked and becomes unblocked with a little bouncing while in the car or what but get my kids in a car and it’s all, “I gotta go potty!”
Now, when one of the boy children says this, it’s not that big of a deal.
I will try and find a semi-private area, pull over and quickly let the boys jump out and pee.
Of course, I have to remind them first that we don’t need to get completely undressed to pee by the side of the road. They were given an appendage to pee from which sticks out from the body and therefore can be pushed through the zipper hole in pants for quick and easy peeing.
They will nod in agreement, saying they know but then proceed to take their pants off while I beat my head in frustration on the van.
It’s when the little girl has to pee that things get more interesting.
One thing that I have learned about my daughter is that when she tells me that she has to go potty, she has already been holding it for about 20 minutes.
She ain’t got much hold left.
We need to act quickly.
I scan the road for a safe place to stop. I want some parking lot that is empty but semi well lit so that we won’t get attacked while she is mid pee.
As I look for this spot, I wonder why car seats don’t come with built in potty bowls. Wouldn’t that be awesome? You’d never have to stop to use the bathroom. We could all just put on special pants that have holes in the crotch like the babies in China wear and then when we have to go, we just go. The car seat potty bowl would flush away the pee and even clean our bums.
Claire saying, “Mommy, I really really have to go” brings me back. And I look back at her to see that she is now using two hand, full pressure on her crotch to try to keep the pee in.
There is no more waiting.
If I don’t want to clean pee from a car seat which is a little bit like wrestling a pissed off alligator, then I better stop… NOW!
Soon just the right parking lot appears, one that is deserted, lit and surrounded by a field.
I drive to the far end and jump out to help Claire.
She is dancing and prancing and doing the pee pee wiggle. This girl’s gotta go!
I help her get her pants down and then tell her to lean back into my hands.
She wraps her arms around mine and I grab her thighs holding her in mid air so that she is in a semi sitting position. I widen my stance to make sure my feet are away from pee spray.
And then we wait.
Because of course, even though she has to pee so badly that the whites of her eyes are yellow, she now has a shy bladder and can’t go.
“Just release and pee, sweetie,” I say trying not rush her but I don’t know how much longer I can hold this precarious position. Balance is not really a strength of mine.
“Mommy, I’m trying,” she says with a little grunt.
We wait and wait but nothing happens.
I decided rushing her will not help so I adjust my footing, hoping to better balance myself.
But as I move my foot, the strong hold that is her little bladder brakes forth and like water rushing over Niagara Falls, she pees. Since my stance was precarious in the first place and me moving doesn’t help matters, I feel myself falling.
“Pee faster,” I scream, “Push”
She bares down but that little movement is enough to push me over my center of gravity and down I go.
Falling backwards like a leaning, squatting gorilla.
Claire is still peeing. The stream has started and since I have yet to teach her how to preform a Kegel, she can’t stop it.
As I fall backwards, I thrust her upwards and back, her little butt now flying high in the air. She yells, “MOMMY!”
I tighten my grip on her legs and continue to hold her out like a fully load squirt gun, praying that her pee stream misses me.
With me laying half up, half down, legs spread wide open looking like I am pulling a baby out of my vagina, Claire finally evacuates all of her bladder.
I crunch my abdomen with all my might, which isn’t an easy task considering I’ve had 2 c-sections, and set Claire on her feet on the ground. With my arms now free, I can push myself up to assess the damage.
“Holy crap!” I say, laughing, “I don’t think I got any pee on me. How about you? Are you dry?”
I look over Claire and see she too is drying.
“Alright then,” I say helping her pull up her pants, “How about we go home?”
She nods and runs back over to the van. I brush the stones off me and wonder, would it be a bad thing to make my children wear diapers on car rides?