I Pee in Your General Direction

Every pregnant woman's handbook, "What to Expect When You're Expecting," although very informative, lacks a number of things to expect long-term. The only update is "What to Expect the First Year," but not thereafter.

I'd like to update this alleged gold standard reading with the following:

1. Intimacy often becomes a scheduled appointment as though one were visiting the dentist -supposed to happen every 6 months, if it doesn't, eh. You'll get around to it...eventually.

2. "We're not them, we're different; we won't turn into that family," (both parents shushing and chasing misbehaving children around church, weddings or the grocery store) become the last words uttered before a second child arrives.

3. Your child/children may become the only "for better or worse" worthy person in the household.

4. Date night = sitting on the couch, watching a show you can both agree on, passed out by 9:30/10 (only if the kids are asleep by then).

5. Oprah's traded for Caillou, hair do's for pony tails, showers for wet wipes.

6. A sincere and devoted hands-in interest as Top Excrement Judge will ensue involving: frequency, color, volume, texture, consistency -nearly everything but taste.

The list goes on, however the last of these critical revelations has been a thorn in my side as of late.

I awoke on Monday morning to discover Pumpkin playing in her bed, pants and socks off. I asked her what happened. "I peed fru my pants." Awww, poor baby. Alrighty then. I better hop to it because she has so many stuffed animals in her bed, I have about 2.5-3 full loads of laundry ahead of me in addition to the giant pile awaiting my magical mommy wand.

I awoke Tuesday morning to discover Pumpkin again, playing in her bed with just her pull-up on. I asked her where her pants and socks went. "I peed fru my pants." Great. Here we go again. I kept some stuffed friends out this time in case this happened again. Only 2 extra loads that day.

I awoke this morning to the same thing. That was it!
"What happened, Pumpkin?"
"I peed fru my pants."
"I know. Why did that happen?"
"I wanted to look."

After a brief question and answer period, I got the low down as well as a Tony Award winning performance. My little voyeur apparently stood up, yanked her pull-up to the side and took a gander at her revolt to my delay in entering her room and starting our day. Unfortunately, most of it ended up on her pillow. Washing a pillow case: easy as pie. Scrubbing the constellation studded urine out of a Laura Ashley pillow to avoid lumpy innards from a trip in the washer: broken nail worthy. This, after three and a half years of suffering nose deep through her stuff, drove me to re-acquaint myself with some texts from the Toddler: Owner's Manual section.