Parenting,  Thoughts

One of Those Days

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Do you ever have just one of those days? One of those days where it feels like the stars aligned in a perfect union to make your life a living hell?

I had one of those recently.

My five-year-old was complaining all weekend about not feeling well so Monday morning when she still wasn’t better, it was time to take her to all of our favorite places– the doctor!

Now going to the doctor is not a pleasant experience for me. I dread it. Mostly we go in for routine check-ups but no matter the reason I always feel like we’re going to catch something worse than what we came in with. There is always some kid with a hacking cough and another that looks like he has the hangover of 18-year-old college freshmen.

I usually stand in the corner with the baby in the Ergo and instruct my children to sit with their hands on their laps, as to not touch any of the germ-ridden seats, floors, toys etc.

Obviously, I’m crazy and this never works.

My five-year-old loves to touch everything. She also likes to pick her nose.

My three-year-old was born with two left feet and cannot keep himself off of the ground. And because he is a happy dude this means that he is usually rolling around on his stomach, face down, with his mouth open, tongue out, lapping up viruses like it is his job.

Back to the story.

I took all three kids into the doctor’s office, and the aforementioned all happened. We made it into the back room where I was finally allowed to let out a sigh of relief; the inner sanctum. This room was private and clean. Unfortunately, like most fairy tale places, reaching your destination doesn’t always mean your adventure is over.

She’s going to need to pee in a cup, the doctor said.

Now listen here. I’m a good mom but I also have three tiny children. I have the youngest strapped to my chest, the three-year-old in tow, and the five-year-old is somehow supposed to get her pee into a cup.

Like a parade of clowns, we marched down the hallway to the bathroom at the end.

DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING! I instructed the three-year-old.

The scene was set– a liner had been placed on the toilet to protect the wee patient’s bottom and I had the cup open and in my hand. I knelt on the floor, trying to balance the cup under her rump, while also not dipping the baby’s head in the toilet. I thought I was doing pretty good.

PEE! I told her.

Now pee coming out of a child is not predictable in the least. It spurts a little, sprays for a while, shoots out like a fire hose, and then drips. To be fair, I had my work out for me already. But right as the stream started coming, the three-year-old located the light switch and we were plunged into complete darkness.

Frightened, the kid peeing started trying to get off the toilet. Meanwhile, I was shouting at the top of my lungs, TURN THE LIGHT ON! TURN THE LIGHT ON NOW!

We got some pee in the cup. The rest, however, had spread all over my hand, arm, and shirt.

As we poured out of the bathroom into the hallway, there were several nurses and receptionists watching me. Their faces conveyed pity.

I felt like a comedian who is just failing at her bit, searching the crowd for any sign of life.

I also felt the urge to bow but refrained.

Turns out there was nothing wrong. And while I did at least have the peace of mind of knowing my daughter was fine, this was coupled by the unpleasant stench of urine and the feeling of defeat. Sitting in someone else’s urine will do that to a person.

Parenting has a lot of these types of days. They are speckled into a batter of loveliness and rainbows. But when one of them comes along, sometimes you’ve just got to acknowledge it. You’ve got to pull your lady pants up real high and fill your wine glass full.

Cheers, mamas.