And I, in my state of perpetual calm and rational thinking, bark, "You WILL pee like this because YOU drank enough to satiate a frickin' camel for 2 months and I'm standing on the side of the road like a NUTTER. YOU. WILL. PEE. NOW!"
Kiddo #2, screaming, says, "I will NOT!" and I park him back on the ground abruptly. I look him in the eyes and say, "It's time to suck it up, buttercup. THIS is why I make you pee before we leave. THIS is why I tell you when you need to stop drinking. THIS IS WHY!" And I picked him up, put him back in the Superman position. Seconds later, I watch him pee out, like, 4 gallons of liquid. Honestly, he peed a hard stream of pee for a really, really long time. I'm kinda sad that I made him wait because I would've been wailing around in the backseat like Mr. Orange, too if I had to pee that bad.
Luckily, I could re-live the awesome moment of parenting all the way to Amsterdam because, I hadn't noticed at the time, but the wind picked up just enough to lightly mist both my flip-flop wearing feet. Perfect.
Thanks Universe.
I put the boy back in his seat and buckle myself in when I hear a meek, "Mom, don't worry. I can hold it until the rest stop" from Kiddo #1.
To Be Continued...
(I did that like 80's cartoons did-- I got a little extra use from the last 15 seconds of the previous episode and saved a bunch of money by switching to Geico. Or whatever. If you're just landing here and have no idea what just happened, scroll down and read the previous post to get the Part 1 of this 2-Part Pee-tastrophe. :) )
So, feeling sticky with fresh boy-pee on my feet, I snarl that maybe Kiddo #1 should've told me before I headed to the highway on ramp and she could've peed on the side of the road, too. And then I stop myself because, bless her, she can wait to pee on her panties and shoes for the first time until another damn day. Plus, all that rage in my chest was making me have to pee, too, and making a second pee-stop, at a place with an actual toilet sounds much more appealing to Momma.
Just as I got my car up to speed, I took it off cruise and coasted into the rest stop. I told Kiddo #1 I was sorry for being [a douchebag, although that's not the term I used] and the three of us walked quickly to the family bathroom.
The Family Bathroom in the new rest stops, by the way, is unbelievable. Truly! They re-did a bunch of rest stops in our neck of the woods and made them AMAZING. The family bathroom has this handicapped door that opens medium-quickly (unlike the doors of the past that slowly inch open over a period of 3 minutes ensuring you piss your pants waiting for the 300lb door to open) and locks with a handicapped button, which is also pretty cool. I've always (secretly) wondered how someone in a wheelchair could reach and stretch to manually lock a lock, and this gigantic door opening and locking button is awesome. Plus, it's directly beside the toilet, so it's convenient to the person on the can.
There is also a gigantic, electronic changing table, which would be amazing to change an adult on (which made my heart happy, since adults with limited mobility still travel places and it would be hard to travel if you knew your adult had no where to have diapers changed etc), as well as a mini-toilet for toddlers and urinals (not included in the picture)... I'm telling you, it's worth writing about, hence these paragraphs.
Anyway, Kiddo #1 did her thing on the mini-toilet while I washed Kiddo #2's and my hands from our previous toilet experience. Then I washed my feet. So gross.
After everyone else had been taken care of, I took care of myself. Rather, I told the kids not to touch the controls for the changing table. Then, I watched Kiddo #2 try to get on the change table, while concocting a plan that had Kiddo #1 as a ride-operator (I hesitate to use the word "carnie") making the table go up and down in a sort of carnivalesque ride while I went pee.
Me: Don't ride the change table.
Kiddos: Awwww!
Me: It's a machine to help people. Plus, it's where bare butts go.
Kiddo #2: So should I take off my pants?
Me: GAH! No! Just it's not a toy.
Kiddo #1: Kiddo #2, it's an important tool helping babies and big kids get diapers changed.
Kiddo #2: I'm a big boy and I don't have a diaper.
Me: Yes. Sometimes big boys and girls have diapers. But you don't get one.
Kiddo#2: Can I just use one sometimes?
Me: No. We've worked too hard to potty train you.
Kiddo #2: But...
Me: No.
Kiddo #2: But...
Me: Get off the change table.
Kiddo #2: You don't have to say it a thousand times... geez.
(You see the drama in this boy? He might be the death of me.)
Kiddo #2, dismayed, then went around to the light switch and began turning it on and off like I was in the middle of a discotheque at 2am. Fearing a seizure, I used my trademarked, "Please don't touch the WORLD" line and he, much like a cat, stopped doing what he was doing, made a grumpy gesture, and moved to the next thing.
Pee. That's all I had to do, but somehow, this allowed for my son to play DJ with the lights, start the screaming hand dryer and then run over and hit the unlock button for the door, which, just for your information, is also the open-the-door-at-lightspeed button.
Does the door open facing (me on) the toilet or facing the other wall, you wonder?
If you have to ask, you weren't there for the show.
As I was sitting there, pants at my ankles, my son hits the unlock/open door button and my entire world changed in a heartbeat.
 |
| "Dat door is powing Mommy off the toiwet." |
I lunged forward to hold the door from opening, which is about as effective as stopping a charging rhino with a Japanese paper screen. I grabbed it with my left hand while the ultra-strong door continued to push its way open as though I wasn't holding it at all. Taking a step forward because the door was dragging my carcass with it, my white arse began hanging in the air. With my right hand, I grabbed for my pants while being swept into the lobby by the robotic door with my left. The only thing that would have made that scene more perfect would be had I been wearing rollerblades.
I whisper shouted to Kiddo #1 to help me!
She, panicking, ran over from the change table where she'd been playing, knocked into me. Yes, she hit my elbow, which were I not trying to pull up my pants, shut a door, and also NOT show the entire world my VAGINA, sent me flying. Flying in an off-balance penguin waddle, my coochie arrived on the scene, followed by my iridescent-white hiney. Oh, the humanity.
Summoning my inner Medusa, I wheeled my head around 360 degrees and screamed "CHILDREN! Help your mother up and close that damned door!"
Oh, and don't think that all this didn't get documented by the THREE buses of elderly shuffling to their respective bathroom breaks. Oh what's that? When did the bus of baseball players arrive? Well my dear 12-year old boys, I'm sorry if this is the first vagina you've ever seen, although it might keep teen pregnancy rates astonishingly low in Grand Rapids, Michigan (per the sign on the bus I read afterwards). I heard one oldster (loudly) say to his wife, "Delores, are we already watching Hamlet?" Delores, (also deaf) replied, "Charles, really. There are no vaginas in Shakespeare."
I, of course, tried to get up like an inch-worm. I think I was trying to preserve my dignity by not just standing up and giving everyone a full frontal, but let's be honest, me doing a mostly-naked downward dog was NOT helping the situation.
I swooped back into the bathroom, drop-kicked the door shut and pulled up my pants while my children stood there speechless. ... Or they were terrified to move, breathe or say anything lest the mighty T-Rex notice them and eat them whole. Either way, there was a whole lot of radio silence.
Sweating, raging, and feeling like now, after two kids and THIS show, the literal world has seen my vagina, I closed my eyes and fought the urge to ask everyone at the rest stop for $5.
Then I remembered why the internet was invented and realized I won't be making any cashola off my "performance" when they can get free videos online, anytime. Bah. Where's the silver lining?
Well, the "silver lining" is safely tucked in my pants where it belongs.
I should've taken my chances on the side of the highway like any normal human.
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