Another One For The Gremlin Files

While many things have occurred over the months that made me want to put pen to paper (fingers to keys?), this was the first that truly begged to be shared...

About a week ago, Andy followed Gremlin into the bathroom first thing in the morning and found a small puddle.  Upon discussion, Grem verified that he'd waited too long and hadn't had enough time to get everything working in the right order.  We remembered allowing him to drink about a half gallon of apple juice at bedtime and pretty much blamed ourselves.  A day or so later, I noticed there was still a faint pee smell in the bathroom so I pulled up the bath mat, changed out all the towels, wiped things down (see? motherhood = glamour!), the usual. 

Mothers of boys, you know this is certainly not the first time one of the men in my life had missed the bowl, however, this odor wouldn't go away.  I remembered an old boyfriend's mom telling me a funny, exasperated story about having to twice replace the baseboard heat next to the toilet in her downstairs bathroom after her four sons had rusted them through.

I started to worry that the liquid had seeped into the bead board on the wall behind the toilet or the wood of the vanity located next to it.  Wonderful.  I was going to have to replace my six year old bathroom because my six year old child urinated all over it.  Coincidence?  I think not.

As it turns out, I don't have to replace my bathroom.  I may replace my younger child.  Again, lucky Andy went into the bathroom after Gremlin and again discovered a small puddle.  Being (sick of hearing me complain) a model husband, he took it upon himself to clean up the puddle and cover half the bathroom in scrubbing bubbles.  As he moved the toilet brush and holder from the corner behind the toilet, he noted that there was a liquid level in the little cup/toilet brush holder thingy. 

Quite the opposite of missing, Gremlin has apparently been perfecting his aim by peeing into the toilet brush holder! Is there no freaking end to this boy's disgustingness??

After things were explained to me and Andy had gently chided Gremlin, I stepped in, a little less calm.  My son, the king of plausible deniability didn't say one word as I shrieked at him "Why would you do such a thing??  What were you thinking???"  On and on I went, ending with "and if you EVER pee anywhere but in a toilet again, I'll make sure you wear diapers until you're 40!"

The bathroom has been sterilized, the offending receptacle has been recycled (what would you have done with it??) and a new brush has been purchased.  As I pulled it from the Target bag, I showed it to Gremlin, with this parting shot: "Could you do me a favor and not pee in this one?".

Wrap It in Bacon

Remember that email that went around a few years ago about how to give a cat a pill?  It went on and on with steps including massage cat's throat, remove cat from drapery rod, then apply direct pressure to lacerations.  Then there was "how to give a pill to a dog."  Answer: wrap it in bacon. 

Gremlin has been experiencing some significant constipation issues for about the past month.  Basically, he refuses to poop.  This is different from his usual "I don't have to go - I'm too busy playing" refusal and has now migrated to his school day.  We've instituted mandatory "trying" periods throughout the day and returned to the sitting-on-the-edge-of-the-tub, potty training model.

Friday, while in Target (why do I always get this call when I've got a full cart?), the school nurse calls stating she's got Gremlin in her office doubled over with stomach pains.  I'm on my way but it's going to be a few minutes.  She calls back seconds later asking me to please bring a change of clothes as well.  Awesome.

As I arrive at school and the nurse waves me toward the bathroom where she has left my 5-year-old to clean himself up following his accident.  I find him naked and covered, wiping ineffectually at his body with dry, brown, industrial paper towels.  Thankfully, it didn't seem to be bothering him. 

The pediatrician starts writing before I've finished my first sentence.  Gremlin has encopresis and needs a laxative.  Here's where we get to the bacon part.

We opted to wait until Saturday morning vs. Friday evening to begin the regimen for obvious reasons. Andy and I sat at the kitchen table for in excess of 45 minutes trying to teach, convince, discuss, cajole, explain, threaten, and ultimately bribe Grem to swallow an Exlax pill resembling a blue M&M.

He eventually allows the pill to completely dissolve in his mouth complaining the whole time that it tastes like sand, yet refusing to swallow or take a sip of any of the 6 different beverage selections we have offered him.  Also, he is now the proud owner of SpongeBob Atlantis Squarepantis DS game. 

And all for nothing.  Based on his chosen method of absorption and the complete lack of results, I'm guessing that none of the medicine actually made it to the boy's lower G.I.

This morning, I returned to CVS and going against the advice of the pharmacist Andy spoke with yesterday, got Exlax in chocolate form.  I came home, said "hey Grem, here's some chocolate medicine!"  He ate two pieces and we're done.

Wrap it in bacon.

My Son, The Rocket Scientist

Scene:  Manic Mommy and HRH, reading a few chapters of "Mrs. Roopy Is Loopy" together before bed.


MM (reading aloud): "If you want to make your friends laugh, all you have to do is stick your face in their face and say either 'bathroom' or 'underwear.' It works every time."

HRH:  Or Uranus...

MM: (Cough, laugh, sputter)  True...do you know why?

HRH: No...

MM (Brain screaming 'stop and think!' Mouth, damning the torpedoes, moving full speed ahead):  Well, you know that Uranus is a planet but it's also "your anus".  Your anus is your bum.  The place where the poop comes out.

HRH: Knowing smile as The Phrase That Launched a Thousand Potty Jokes plays through his mind...

MM:  Babe, obviously, it's a bathroom word.  You cannot to use it at school. Please don't make me sorry I told you.

HRH (mind still fully engaged in the possibilities):  Okay...but...can I say it to other boys when we're in the bathroom?

MM: N.O.


It is 9:12 am the following morning.  I expect 'the call' by 11:45.  Why do I do this to myself?

Peeps, in the Big Wide World

Day 793 of summer vacation: We are meeting my sister and her three youngest at The Children's Museum in Boston around noon to see the Peep in the Big Wide World Exhibit. She has already fed her kids. I have not. The plan is that I will grab lunch for them at the Au Bon Pain downstairs then meet her in about 15-20 minutes.

I am delighted that the boys can have mac n cheese and chicken nuggets at this particular Au Bon Pain while I can eat a decent salad and iced tea. We join the sea of humanity attempting to order and retrieve food, cafeteria-style. Did I mention it was noon? While balancing our lunch and keeping track of the two boys, we search for a seat. Uh, not happening. Looks like dining al fresco in the 90 degree/90% humidity heat! No tables outside either, but there's a little wall surrounding a tree that I've got my eye on.

Just as we settle down and I arrange our food on the makeshift table, Gremlin begins the pee-pee dance. My response? "No. Tell your peeps to wait." I don't know where the bathrooms are, there are hoards of people everywhere, there is no strategically placed copse of trees, and we have not yet begun to eat. Also, we just left the house a half hour ago where I assure you, I asked him repeatedly if he had to go before we left. At least I think I did. I mean, I always do...

You can know what happens next. Gremlin has an accident. Pees all over his pants, all over his shirt (wtf?), down his legs and into his socks and sneakers. Luckily, he is unfazed. I apologize for not believing the urgency of the situation, shovel down a little more of my salad, and contemplate our options.

Half an hour later, we're heading for (more) Peep. Gremlin is the proud owner of a $17.00 Children's Musuem t-shirt, we've walked back to the parking garage where (messy car pays off!) I find a bathing suit (HRH's) and a pair of his Keens. Oh, and I scrubbed him up as best I could.

Wordless Wednesday - In Seussian Pentameter

A Butt Can be Big (see illustration a)

A Butt Can be Small (see illustration b)

Nearly Wordless Wednesday

The Bathroom:

Are we all clear?