The Arnold Weekly–AKA, The Bodily Fluid Blog

This has been an… interesting week.

We kicked off with Easter Sunday which has 1,001 opportunities to go awry. It actually went quite well with the exception of K-girl throwing a rollicking fit on the floor because I put the hair bow that she picked out in her hair.

Oh the humanity!

Something happened on Monday that I thought was entertaining and blog-worthy, but then I blinked, did laundry, and comforted a constipated toddler, and the incident was completely wiped from my memory. I assure you, though, that it was funny and you probably would have at least smirked if not laughed out loud.

I swear, I have tons of blog material if only a hypnotist could help me remember them…

As I type this, Z-boy is directing TheLittlePrince to turn around so Z-boy can throw K-girl’s shoes at him while TheWiseOne laments, “Does no one care about me?!”

But I digress… 😉

So, today happened.

K-girl has been a little under the weather. Cold symptoms. Mild, actually. But I took her and TheLittlePrince to the pharmacy with me today while the older two were at school.

As soon as we got into the store, she asked to be carried. I thought that was a little odd since she has been Miss Super-independent-toddler-I-can-do-it-myself-thank-you-very-much, but like I said, she’s been a little under the weather.

I get to the prescription pick-up line, and she wails in a panicked voice, “I gotta pee! I gotta pee!”

Well, crap. I just got in line and she has to go. I turn around and scan the store for a restroom sign. As I’m unsuccessfully scanning for a restroom, it becomes my turn to pick up my prescription.

So, I’m thinking we live close to the pharmacy, I’ll just grab my prescription and rush K-girl home to the potty. She can usually wait a few minutes.

I put K-girl down so I can fish for my wallet as quickly as I can while K-girl does what could possibly be the most desperate pee-pee dance I’ve ever seen. Between the bouncing, horse-galloping, crotch holding, and tribal circle-walking combined with urgent whining, I think she might be making a parody of Oppa Gangnam Style.

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After putting my wallet back, I snatch K-girl up and swing her onto my hip thinking that will help appease her, but the fussy cries continue.

We can make it, I think. Just waiting for her to hand me the prescriptions…

Hot. I feel hot.

Wet hot.

I feel wet hot seeping down my side and onto my jeans, and then I hear…

…tap tap. The urine run down my shirt and is now dripping onto my canvas shoes. A few seconds later, I can feel the warm liquid seeping into my shoe and being absorbed by my sock.

Then I hear another dripping sound as the urine hits vinyl pharmacy floor.

My gosh, the child is still going! She has not only saturated my shirt, pants, and shoes, but she has actually left a puddle of piddle in the floor.

And in this moment, I am so flabbergasted that I look at the pharmacy tech, and all I can think to say is…

…”I think she peed.”

Yes. Yes, I’m pretty sure the now cold, wet spot on my thigh screams “Urine!”

And the pharmacy tech says nothing. This woman has the poker face to end all poker faces. Her face stays calm and reactionless as she finishes typing something on the computer. It’s as if urinating in the pharmacy were an everyday occurrence that doesn’t warrant any other reaction besides a slight nod of acknowledgement. Had I said, “Nice weather we’re having,” I probably would’ve gotten a bigger reaction.

Then she very calmly says, “I’ll get you some paper towels.”

Meanwhile, K-girl is now feeling the peace of the peed and is leaning on me happily and sucking her thumb. She’s two. She shouldn’t be sucking her thumb, I know. But she also shouldn’t be peeing in stores.

The tech returns with paper towels, and I make a sad attempt at cleaning the puddle. Blessedly, she hands me my prescriptions and I try to stealthily leave the store without being seen with peedy pants.

Mission accomplished! I load up the kids in the vehicle and gripe to TheLittlePrince, “I’m completely covered in urine!”

“All the way to your HEAD?!” cries TheLittlePrince in shock and awe.

“Well, not on my head,” I confess. “I suppose it could be worse.” Gotta find those silver linings.

And it’s only Tuesday.

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Another Potty Humor Post Because This is My Life Now

This week I had the brilliant idea to set up TheWiseOne with an account that he can text me through on the computer.

He’s 10. So, this seemed like a logical choice. Texting is so quick and accessible. But, I’m sure I don’t need to sing the praises of texting to you. I think the world understands the beauty of it well enough.

I thought it was especially amazing as I answered the call of Mother Nature, but she forgot to send me ample toilet paper.

As I used the last bits of precious ply, I snagged my phone off the counter (because, let’s be honest, we all take our phones with us) and sent the following message to TheWiseOne:

Me: “I have a first world problem. I need toilet paper upstairs. Can you help a sister out?”

I wait rather impatiently and strain to hear the sounds of my savior’s footsteps coming up the stairs.

Nothing.

I send another message: “Are you alive?! I don’t wanna use my own socks!!!”

Nothing. Suddenly this text messaging thing doesn’t seem so brilliant.

Now I have to resort to my back up–TheBaldEagle. I was trying not to bother him since he was in the basement working, but a girl has to do what a girl has to do.

I send a plea for help to TheBaldEagle: “I need TP for my bunghole. Just plug your nose and toss a roll.”

TheBaldEagle replies: “I’m in the basement pooping.”

This is quite possibly the most disappointing text of my life. The fates are surely laughing hysterically at me.What did I do to deserve this? Did I sit on a child and fart on him in a past life? Whatever I did, karma has arrived, and she has a sick sense of humor.

Now I’ve been sentenced to the unthinkable. I pull my pants up and do the waddle of shame to the nearest TP supply.

And then, after I’ve gotten myself clean and humanized again, I receive this text message from TheWiseOne: “I am alive, mommy.”

Thanks. Good to know.