On The Side Of The Road Again Pt 1

I grew up in a house that was constantly on the go. Even moreso during my teenaged-years, our home was more like a hotel that we slept in than a home that we did stuff in; between travel sports, school clubs, and part-time jobs, our house was where we parked the car between sleeps.

Because of that, I grew up thinking that every family spent more hours on the road than anywhere else, and therefore the inevitable pull-over-to-pee problem was commonplace and a non-issue. 

My children, however, for reasons that kinda astound me, haven't ever had to learn the delicate art of taking a whiz while cars speed by, hoping against hope that no one can see your arse and that the wind doesn't shift and you don't pee all over your pants and shoes again. The joys of femalehood. Femaledom. Being a chick.

So, when my 98% potty-trained son returned, triumphant, from his trip from Grandma's house in Amsterdam to our house, 1.5 hours away, I felt a disturbance in the force.

Me: Hey buddy! How was Grandpa's house?

Kiddo #2: MOM! Somesing so cwazy happened!

Me: Wow! What's that buddy?

Kiddo #2: MOM! I peed!

Me: On the potty! Wow! Great job, kiddo!

Kiddo #2: NO! MOM! I peed ON DA SIDE OF DA WOAD!

Me: Wh-what?

Grandma: (giggling) Uh, well he (giggle) had to go and there wasn't a rest stop for miles!

Kiddo #1: WHAT! Kiddo #2! You can't pee on the road! A ninja will come out of the grass and bite you and you will DIE!

Me: (audible sigh) Well, that's kinda what I told you, Kiddo #1, to get you to hold it to the rest stop. It's hard to pee on the side of the road when you're a girl.

Kiddo #1: You won't DIE?!? (followed with the look of a girl wondering what the hell else I'd misled her about)

Not only are porta-pottys off-limits for concert goers, but concert putter-on-ers, too.

I guess, as a mom, I wasn't doing my job. Apparently, after thanking my mother (kinda sarcastically) for teaching him that, I spoke to lots of other people (men, women, whatever) and they all agree it's some kind of right-of-passage to learn to pee in the great outdoors. The Great Outdoors, to me, means roughing it in a skanky gas station bathroom, not in The Bush.

Female Friend: How do you expect Kiddo #1 to survive an outdoor music festival if you don't teach her how to pee outside?

Me: Holy shit. She's 6. Are we supposed to go touring with Phish this summer or can it wait a few more years?

Female Friend: I'm telling you, your kids need to know how to pee in nature or they'll be serial killers.

Me: Only serial killers need to know how to pee in a forest-- and that's only until they're caught and put back in a cell with a freakin' toilet again.

However, so far, my favourite part of my son knowing he can pee on the side of the road is that every time we get into the car, he starts dancing and whining that he needs to pee right now, and I can't hold it Momma, you have to stop on the side of the road.

So, as fate would have it, on one of the hottest days of the eternal hell that is Summer, my son had himself a bunch of water, and then found a juice box, and finished off two gulps of yellow Gatorade. We were headed to Amsterdam and we weren't 15 minutes of the 90 minute ride when Kiddo #2 said, with a truly panicked voice, "MOM! I need to pee-at-the-side-of-the-road NOW!"  

Kiddo #1 said, "Uh, Mom, he's pretty freaked out."

Fantastic. I could see the highway on ramp. We were so close to ... absolutely nothing.

Double fantastic.  I glanced around and, yep, the cop that had been hiding behind me was still there. I don't know, but I'm pretty sure pissing on the side of the road is illegal, or at least if I came to a screeching halt on the side of the road, s/he would wonder if everything was ok, and if it wasn't illegal, by the time s/he'd checked my licence and told me not to do it again, Kiddo #2 would've pissed his pants anyway.  Frick.

I told Kiddo #2 to hold it and that we'd stop as soon as I could. 

10 minutes later, to a chorus of screaming children like the scene from Reservoir Dogs where Mr White is trying to distract Mr Orange from his impending demise,  I was singing "You're gonna be oh-kaaaay."  Honestly, this scene, if replaced by a kid needing to pee, is pretty much how the whole 10 minutes went until the cop finally guns it around me and I count to 5 before screeching to that halt I was talking about earlier, and leaping from the car.

I unbuckle Kiddo #2 and open the car door to shield him from someone in front of us zooming by and seeing his penis.  I stand behind him to shield him from someone behind us zooming by and seeing his (cute) butt. He pulls down his pants, still visibly panicked, and I realize 2 things. 1) it's windy and the wind is going to make him piss on his shorts and shoes, and 2) his penis is not 22 feet long-- there's no way he's gonna clear his shorts and shoes, with or without the wind support.

Things you never think about when you don't have a penis of your own.  

I lean him forward like Olympic ski jumper and he wails, "MOM! I can't pee like this!"  I say, "Yes you can! You can do this!" He says, "No I can't! I can't hold my penis and I am scared."

Frick.

I lean him back down and now he's really, really panicked. Like, wild-eyed, gonna-pee-like-a-firehose, panic and I, in my state of perpetual calm and rational thinking, scoop him up like Superman on a forklift.  He is completely parallel to the ground when he shouts, "MOM! MOM! MOM! I canNOT pee like this!"

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. Oh wait, that wasn't the wind. That was my son, tooting on my arm while I held him up like Superman.  

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...