Urine Feet

urine feet

Raise your hand if you have ever changed a diaper. Ok, I see most of you. Now raise your hand if you have ever changed a diaper in the car. Still a bunch of hands. Now raise your hand if you have ever found yourself out and about without anything but a swim diaper and had to change a poopy diaper in the car and then go into the store where the swim diaper leaked in the cart while you were buying diapers? Oh heyyy, I’m raising it!

Now let’s talk further about excrement, particularly urine. I know, FUN, right!? You can see up there in that awesome picture that I am washing my foot in the kitchen sink. This was taken after I had sprayed the bottom of my foot with vinegar. I had to actually put my foot under water to wash it with soap, because there was PEE in between my toes. I had to hop to the sink after I had stepped into the bathroom, you know, to go pee, and landed right in a puddle. It wasn’t just a little drip, it was a PUDDLE of urine. I had to yell for the vinegar spray and a bunch of towels because if I stepped out of the bathroom I would track urine through the house. So I waited…(we had Amazing Family over, which is actually my Amazing Friend’s family, whom I will now call “Friend A” from now on. She needed a name for sure, because she seems to inspire these posts quite a bit. For example, she witnessed me yelling “I AM SICK AND TIRED OF STEPPING AND SITTING IN PEE!!, and then took this picture of me with “urine feet”.)

Everyone was busy with our backyard campout. Kids were playing, Friend A was, I dunno what she was doing, the men were talking about lumber or fire or something, and I was standing on one foot in a puddle of urine. So I screamed this time for the spray and towels, instead of yelling. Tuna and Friend A came to my rescue, and I cleaned up Lake Binker on one foot.
Now, this is primarily a Binker problem right now, but I’ll tell you what–I have been sitting or stepping in pee since I have lived with boys, which started with my little brothers, then Latefordinner, then these monkeys. I am starting to get paranoid about sitting on toilets, and afraid to touch anything in my own bathrooms. I had to throw away two rolls of toilet paper the other day, which were inside a plastic bag next to the toilet, because one of them managed to aim the hose right into the bag. Seriously? If it’s in there, it must be everywhere, man. It’s out to get me, man. I really would rather just get new toilets at this point, because the pee has found the hidden spots on the toilets that weren’t meant for urine. Even toilets have their limits. Also, the walls, and anything in a five foot radius of the toilet. Yes, radius. I swear that stuff is IN the walls. I think he does it on purpose. He “forgets” to tuck when he’s sitting? No! I think he likes watching it fly across the room in a lovely arc and make a lake of urine for me to step in!
I am going to record myself and just press a button when I hear someone go into the bathroom:
“Tuck your penis!”
“Put your pee in the water only!”
“Aim your penis down into the water!”
“I can hear your pee hitting the back of the toilet!”
“Wipe it up if you drip!”

Ok, so this rant must have some purpose…hang on while I find it…

Eh, it’s mostly just a rant. I have fought and taught and wrestled and wiped and cleaned and cleaned again. I have gagged and blown cool breath on bright red butts through cries of pain and slathered miles of butt cream on rashes and changed diapers on standing squirming toddlers, and wiped poop on and off toilets for almost a decade now. I have stepped in sat in sopped up wiped up pee from multiple and varying surfaces. I have done. my. time. and I’m not even done. I could say I will use this against my boys when they are older, when they have kids and complain to me…but I surely will not. I see all of this as part of this awesome madness called parenting. When my grandkids need diapers, I will change them just as selflessly as I have turned off my sense of smell for this decade.

However, if I have to pee when my grandkids need a diaper, I will hand them off. Because in that picture, I still hadn’t peed, and if I have incontinence because I held my pee for my boys’ urine pools, I may use it against them.

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Floor food

If we have talked at all in the last eight years, you have probably heard me complain about the mess in my house.  The dirty, messy, out of control, disorganized mess that is my house.  I really struggle with this.  Like, eye twitching hair pulling struggle.  I’m like Master Shifu in Kung Fu Panda, meditating, saying “inner peace…in-in-innnner peeace…” when really there is turmoil inside.  That poor little panda guy was so uptight! Until, big fat sloppy messy unrefined Po came along and shook him up, shook his world, freaked him out, and ultimately brought him that inner peace.  Irony.

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(99% positive I can reference kids movies here, right?  If you haven’t seen Kung Fu Panda, go check it out, it’s awesome.)

So is there a lesson here?  I don’t know, because really I was so very peaceful when I had a Feng Shui home with everything pretty and organized and  I had time to meditate and do my yoga.  This was so long ago, and I’m still trying to get with this new chaos!  Because of this, I think this whole thing goes a lot deeper than the things around me.  I stress so much about the dishes that don’t ever get done because that fucking maid never shows up, the laundry-that-is-the-floor, the PEE…the PEE everywhere!  Seriously, Because Boys…  I have seen them stand there and yell over their shoulder while peeing, and you know, the head turns, the body turns, the PEE turns….I get it, there’s a hose attached to their body, WEEE!   So I stress, because I just can’t keep up. I mean, I could, but then when would I do anything else?   So this is me sitting in forced meditation, trying to will inner peace, fighting the truth. The eye twitches thinking about all of the work…

Here’s the truth, I never have liked cleaning.  I was able to maintain when I was alone, and even when it was just me and *Late for Dinner.  But when it’s me vs. four males, I am more than outnumbered.  Period.  I would have to become psycho-crazy-clean-rules-enforcer to keep things nice, and I just can’t be happy that way.  How can I enforce those rules if I never follow them anyway?  I don’t even like rules.  I never have liked rules, so I keep the house rules pretty durn basic.  Like, you have to at least have on underwear to sit on the couch; and if you drop food on the floor, pick it up and eat it.  Because we don’t waste food.  This is unless you are a toddler, in which case you may throw all of your food on the floor as long as you return to pick it up and finish it two hours later.  I am sure he plans this.  He knows I won’t sweep it up before then.

Having very basic rules decreases eye twitches, because this is really just about getting up from that meditation cushion, and throwing Po some cookies. I have tasted big gulps of that inner peace while letting my boys play outside barefoot, sometimes in underwear, filthy, and *gasp* without sunscreen for a whole hour!   I’ve seen flashes of that inner peace when making the decision to keep a trampoline in my dining room through the recent WINTER FROM HELL, because even though we could barely move around the room, my boys could jump their crazies out during the darkest coldest days. Mismatched socks, untucked sheets, no more bathroom counter…  I watch the baby throw his food on the floor, and take a breath.  I will not try to force peace, peace just happens at the center of the storm.  One of Osho’s Zen Tarot cards says “Stand in the center of the cyclone and relax, and know that this too will pass.”  Or if you’re Shifu, get up and train your Po.

And here comes one of those little cyclones to pick up his floor food, two hours after breakfast. And that my friend, is some kind of inner peace.

 

* Husband and I were talking about what I should call him here, and he said “Just don’t call me late for dinner. “