You’re In!

Ah, April.  The time of year which brings many things — including the trasition to the spring season. It’s also the homestretch for the rest of the school year, and plans are often cemented for next year.

April is traditionally the time of year that colleges and universities send out their batches of letters (and now — emails) declaring acceptance to students for the fall semester.  I’m sure that many of you have the similar experiences, whether it was you or a child of yours.  The anticipation of that envelope which might have a carefully written rejection letter, or the packet with admissions information.

Would you like to read an exciting story about my college admissions experience in the Spring of 1990?

Well, tough.  This post has nothing to do with that. Instead, you’ll be forced to read about urination. Namely — the experiences of having someone urinate on you.

No, the picture above has nothing to do with peeing. I just decided that it would be a good, cheerful diversion for those of you who expected something of a less excretory nature in this blog post. You can feel free to bail now. (Also, please notice that I decided to use the picture of the original Dora rather than the “tween” Dora which has caused some controversy lately.  I offer this image as an olive branch to mommybloggers everywhere. Please stay and see what I have to say.)

Yesterday started very early for me. I had to be on a working conference call at 7:00 am.  I used my work laptop with its VPN connection. When Av came downstairs, he could play on our desktop computer. No problem.

When I finished the conference call, we played some games together on the computer. Usually I sit in the office chair while he sits in my lap. We make a pretty good team for driving games, as one of us can take care of the car’s speed while the other one steers.

I was still a bit grungy at the time, as I had fully expected the conference call to be much shorter. I was going to finish it and then take a shower and start my day. So I was still in my footy pajamas sleepytime clothes. Midway through one of our games I noticed that either he or I smelled slightly… ripe.  Not something which was incredibly foul, just a trigger to a nose twitch and a “what’s that smell?” curiosity.

And then I noticed him squirming around a bit.  I asked if he needed to go to the bathroom. He said he was fine.

He got up. His pajamas were wet. My pajamas were wet. And I know that it wasn’t my doing.

I was upset. I told him to go to the bathroom NOW.  I decided to take action as a responsible parent — the secret of which is, apparently, to get pissed on, then get pissed off, then storm upstairs and tell the other parent that the kid is his/her problem. And then take a shower.

Here’s his deal over the past six months or so:  He’s six. He doesn’t have accidents very often at all. He gets it.  But when he does have an accident, it’s usually because he’s so immersed in playing a video game on the computer that he simply doesn’t want to get up.  Our rule has been one to fit the issue at hand: no more computer for the rest of the day. He doesn’t like that, and there can often be tears.  I think the tears also stem from being disciplined — he’s really a very, very good kid who follows instructions and behaves. When he does something wrong, we call him out on it. For him (and for his parents) that’s a pretty emotional situation.  When the situation has been diffused, he knows that we still love each other even if we’re angry at each other for the actions which have taken place.

This time was no exception: Disappointment. Judgment. Tears. A debriefing period. It was over soon enough with him playing with his trains and being back to his normal self.  We were all in a cheery mood when we got in the car to go to Maryland to visit my Dad and his girlfriend.  They were pleased to see us and him. While the adults were talking, he made himself at home playing with some toys and watching a “Bob the Builder” DVD in the other room.  Every so often he would come back out and say hi and engage us (and vice versa).

My dad’s sister was also over to see us. She hadn’t seen Av since he was a toddler.  She left earlier than we did, so we asked Av to come back out to say goodbye to her.

And, sure enough, the crotch of his pants were visibly wet.

Now — he wasn’t playing on the computer at the time.  Although he’s been to my Dad’s place many times (and knows where all of the bathrooms are — he’s slept over there for a few days at a time!), maybe this was him feeling intimidated in a new environment. This could have truly been “an accident” rather than him being so engrossed with one stimulus that the whole “stop what you’re doing and proceed to the nearest toilet” message didn’t register seriously.

We were going to go out to dinner soon after (my Dad’s treat — woo hoo!), but we didn’t have a change of clothes for Av. He’s six. We couldn’t go out to dinner with him in (visibly) wet pants. So we just went home, all of us kind of bummed.  By the time we got home it was time to eat and then get ready for bed soon after.  He promised that “tomorrow will be a better day.”  And you know what? It was.  No accidents. True — we held a birthday party he attended today over his head, but it seems to have worked.

For him at least.

Because Friday night one of our cats (the older one who’s been with us for the long haul) decided to pee all over our comforter. We washed it. And it got peed on again.  The last time she exhibited this behavior she had some health problems; socKs will be calling the vet tomorrow to have it all checked out.

Maybe we have to limit computer time for the cats as well?