It's Part of Our DNA

This past weekend, I had to reinforce a skill.  Teach a principle.  Solidify a point. Mold my young breed.

With young boys between the ages of 7 and 13, there is a certain hinge, or set of hinges, in the house that doesn't get as much use as it should.

I don't know that I can claim credit for the lyrics, because I have a sneaking suspicion they were lying dormant in my mind from my childhood when sung to me by my mom.  After all, she had 8 young boys between the ages of 3 and 18 at one point.  She certainly is the one who taught me the skill of making up different words to familiar tunes.

I taught it to Nick several years ago, and it seems to have worked (within a reasonable variance rate) for him.

So, if you are familiar with the LDS Primary songbook, please sing along with me the Avery Boy Anthem (as I titled it for my sons this weekend):

To stand while you pee is a blessing, you see,
But lift up the seat when you pee.
If you leave the seat down, you will make Mommy frown,
So lift up the seat to pee.
Nobody likes to sit on a wet seat.
It's up to you to keep it clean and neat.
So, lift up the seat! Lift up the seat! Lift up the seat when you pee!

I am sure their having that song stuck in their head all day yesterday had nothing to do with the fact that the song has the word "pee" in it 4 times.  Or that I sang it to them several times for their bedtime song on Saturday night.

It might just work.  You are welcome to try.

We've Been There...and Now We Are Back Again

It time to address a very real concern.  An issue that I know many out there are dealing with and it is not just mine alone.  Something that, the older I get, becomes more and more of a pressing issue.

Yes, I am talking about pee dreams. Please do not let me stand here as though I am the only one who has this happen. But when I am sleeping at night, my dreams will suddenly and inexplicably turn to one subject - peeing.

Frankly, I have decided that I must be Joseph Gordon Leavitt (simply because I cannot stand the thought of my being Leonardo DiCaprio) and I have devised a method to be able to tell myself that I am sleeping and need to wake myself up.

Yes, peeing is my top. The story will change or the location, but with or without an adequate place to do so, I will pee.

And I never get relief. NEVER.

Two minutes later in my dream, I will be in the woods. No relief.

I will end up in a bathroom with a door that doesn't lock and full-length windows.  No relief.

Then, I will go to work and be in the employee break room at the sink.  No relief.

Bellagio Fountains?  No relief.

I think you get the idea.  Look, this is not some deep-seated Freudian concept I am unearthing in myself. No, the bottom line is, once I finally wake up, I really have to go. Really.

That's all my mind is trying to tell myself. "Wake up!!  Wake up before you have relief in your dreams!!"

I am so glad I don't have relief in my dreams. I fear what it would mean.

I am sure Nicki is grateful, too.

Like I said, I am just glad I am not the only one this happens to...I mean, I'm not, right?

It's All About Pee

At some point, I would imagine that anyone like me will eventually do a blog about it. So I might as well get it out of the way. I promise it will be the first, last and only one, though. Um...okay, don't hold me to that. We're not counting the Malibu excursion, right?

You may recall that we bathe the 3 youngest boys together. Usually, Jonny likes to sit at the helm, Mike astern and Josh in the middle. Josh routinely likes to stand up to reach at different toys, or just to pester one of the other brothers. I had turned to wash Mike's hair, when Josh stood and released the contents of his bladder all over Jonny.

Then he laughed and laughed. (Josh, not Jonny.)

If you take a step back, and if you're not the one being urinated upon, then I think there will be a part of you that probably thinks it is pretty funny, too. At this moment, I am having a good chuckle myself, I will admit. However, that night I was not amused. Nay, not in the least. So I lifted them all out of the tub so I could drain, rinse and refill.

Fast forward to last night.

I was already just a little bit upset about the dog feces that had been tracked into the house on little shoes as the boys came inside for bath time. This night, I got Mike out first. I dried him off, got him dressed and prepared the Mikey Burrito, then turned back to the bath to finish the other two.

The Mikey Burrito

I was fairly certain the water had not been yellow when I got Mike out. Yet, there was a distinct yellow tint now. This time, Josh was not the culprit. Apparently, Jonny thought he was in a swimming pool at a water park, rather than a bathtub.

"Why did you pee in the bath, Jonny?"

"I didn't."

The lesson for Family Home Evening the night before was about lying. Or, rather, NOT lying.

"Jonny, did you pee in the bathtub?"

"No, I didn't!"

Josh - "Jonny, just tell the truth. It will be easier!"

(Questionable Parenting Tactic to Follow) So, I let him enjoy it while I had Josh stand up, get rinsed off and washed. Then lifted him up to wash off his feet. I had no bananas to give him, but he seemed okay. I left Jonny sitting in his Urine Spa while I helped Josh get dressed, etc., and sent him off to his bed to read books (part of the Nightly Routine).

No, I didn't actually wash Jonny in his own pee. I thought about it. But that would probably be less than questionable, right? Drain, rinse and refill.

While I would hope this is the last time such a thing will happen, I resign myself to the reality that it probably is not. After all, when was the last time you were in the shower and...

The Two Towers

In part two of our trilogy (Part I):

We hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast, and Nick, particularly, was quite ready to eat, if not particularly thirsty. We dropped off the ruined tire at Big O to get replaced and mounted on the wheel. (I asked if they could fix it, knowing full well they wouldn't.)

Then we went across the street to fill up on gas - nearly empty.

"Um, Dad. I really need to go to the bathroom again."

This time there was no 11-year-old daughter drama, but we were at Sam's Club, where the pumps are 5 miles from the store. Nick looked over at the Honeybaked Ham Store and asked, "What about over there?"

So we left the car, fuel pumping, while we ran across the small drive to Honeybaked Ham. I stayed by the window to watch the car in case it blew up or, worse yet, in case someone pulled up next to the car and started to pump gas on my dime.

Once he was out and we were back at the car, I felt sure that, by this point, he had to be done.

Smeagol was feeling guilty, so we ate wherever and whatever Nick requested. Then, we went to help my moving friend unload his truck. Until 5 pm. Now the birthday party that ended an hour and 56 minutes ago is actually over and it is time to pick up Matti. It made sense to me that since we were going to be gone, anyway, we might as well run and get the new tire put on the car.

While waiting for the wheel to get put on the car, Nick came up to me and said, "Um, Dad..."

This is where my parenting skills receive the final blow. Apparently, he was so scared of Gollum resurfacing that he didn't even bother to tell me beforehand - he just wet his pants. And we still were committed to go back to help my friend finish unloading.

Thankfully, he has two young boys and his wife was able to get out some dry pants for Nick as a temporary fix.

There you go.

Lesson #1 - Do not let your 7-year-old son have unfettered access to the fountain drinks at the auto dealership.

Lesson #2 - Nothing is so important as to allow Gollum to speak to your children - ever.

Maybe not necessarily in that order...but...you get the idea.

It's All About Me

Last week was rough. I was left to care for the children every night, without the presence of my beautiful and extremely talented wife. How is one man supposed to be expected to care for 2 children by himself for more than one night in a row? Or more than one night?

Like anyone, I have a list of things I wanted to accomplish...last year. But I am still trying to get started on the first one. I was thinking I might finally get a start on some of those things this past week.

Nope.

Before I continue the rest of this story, I would like to point out I am fully aware of my selfishness. I appreciate your desire to set me straight on the many things I did wrong and how my selfishness was the center of it, however. Thank you.

So it was a long (and extremely rainy, by the way) week by the time Thursday rolled around.

Thursday afternoon, I drove through a puddle and came out the other side with an annoying, repetitive sound in the front end on the driver's side.

Friday morning, I inspected my tire and discovered that there was a bolt was stuck in it. "I will take it to Big O Tires tomorrow," I thought.

Friday evening, I left work a little early so I could stop by a dealership, on my way home, to look at a new car I have been thinking about for a while. I really like it. I do. "I wants it. My precious."

In the 2.7 seconds we had together on Saturday morning, I showed Nicki the various analysis I had done regarding the affordability of a new car payment (remember I am an accountant). She agreed that we could do it and gave me the green light, if I decided it's what I want to do.

"I wants it."

"You should take your car to have the tire fixed before you go."

This wasn't any ordinary old random thought. I recognized that at that time, mind you. "But," I reasoned, "It's held this long...I can still get Matti to her friend's birthday party back on this side of town by 3 pm. and then to help my friend move into his apartment at 4 pm."

In other words, "I must have it. I wants it." And we were off.

Do you have an 11-year-old daughter? Every mile I heard, "The Santa Fe is not this way. We have passed the Santa Fe. Daddy, I am going to be late!!"

Gollum said some things to my children on the drive over to Findlay Chevrolet that I regret.

Then, at the point where the concrete meets the asphalt on the off-ramp to Rainbow, the bolt was thrown loose causing the tire to almost instantly go flat. I was so close, yet so far away.

This off-ramp is far too busy to stop right on it to change the tire. So, I was forced to limp up and to the right into the first parking lot. Naturally, Nick wanted to help and it was fun for him to help get the tire out of the trunk and get the lug nuts off - after I had loosened them, of course. I'm strong enough to do that, you know.

Half an hour later, we were mobile again - except I had never used my spare in the 6 years I owned that vehicle (check your spares, folks!). With just enough air in the spare to get to the gas station next door, we drove over and I filled it and checked the other tires in the process.

"Well," thought I, "I'm this close. We'll just go look real quick."

"I wants it. My precious."

I looked at the car while the kids entertained themselves in the lobby (with a TV and, as I was about to realize, a soda fountain) and we left with enough time to get around the beltway and back to the Santa Fe Bowling center - it should only take around 25 minutes. Unless...

For those of you who have (or have raised) young boys, you may be aware of the necessity to ask a certain question before going anywhere in the car. I did not ask that question and no sooner had we entered onto the 215, from the back seat, "Dad. Um. I need to go potty." Also from the back seat, "What?! No, Daddy! We are going to be late!!"

Smeagol had started to regain some control over Gollum by now. I pulled off the very next exit and drove through to the frontage road where there is only empty dirt. We left the empty dirt with a small patch of mud.

We proceeded to make good time, with my constantly never-over-dramatic daughter assuring us that she was going to be late and miss the entire party. I chose to drive Summerlin Parkway to the 95, figuring it would be faster. As we approached the flyover to northbound US-95 from Summerlin Parkway, from the back seat, again, comes, "Um...Dad. I really have to go potty again."

"What?! No, Daddy. We are going to be late!!"

I asked, "Buddy, can you possibly make it another 5 minutes?" We tried some diversionary tactics - songs, etc. - for a very brief 2 minutes (probably less) and I pulled over just past the Rainbow on-ramp before the Cheyenne exit. A perfectly safe place to stop.

I had managed to have my son relieve himself on two different highways within 20 minutes. Worry not. There were two more to go.

I dropped off Matti at 3:04 pm. Unfortunately, the party that started at 3 pm had ended by then, so she was left to go bowling by herself. To her relief, however, she found that all her friends had decided to stay a little longer.

The story continues...