GBE2: If I had my life to live over

"Mamamommy, I want upstairs, please," I heard our older son call to me not long ago. He was having a difficult time waiting until his evening swim lesson.

Play skills. He is in desperate need of some play skills. Instead, he'll look at his vacuums and watch a few videos on YouTube. He may color some shapes on blank sheets of paper or look at some old picutres of our family which we have saved. Once he's gone through his repertoire, he's done. Finished. He's ready to leave this house for greener pastures.

Tonight, those pastures are in the form of the warm pool on the other side of town. I've worked my best to stretch the time.

"Mamamommy, I WANT UPSTAIRS, PLEASE!" he said to me again with earnest. Okay, okay. I get it.

I went upstairs to check on him and found him stretched out on the floor of our bedroom. "Ouch," he said, and he brought my hand to his stomach. No stranger to gastric pain, this child lives with a constant "ouch" in his stomach. It's always a guessing game as to what kind of "ouch" is driving the pain at that particular time, and, at that time, I had decided that he needed to go to the bathroom.

"Come on," I said, forcing the matter. "You need to to potty."

He was reluctant, but I pulled him from the ground anyway. "Yep," I said. "You're coming into the bathroom with me."

I nudged him along into the bathroom, pulled down his pants and proceeded to position him on the toilet. Then, I positioned myself in front of him, squatting down low so that I was at eye level with him.

A seasoned coach when it comes to bathroom issues, I directed our son to push. This would help his "ouch", I explained.

Nothing.

C'mon, my friend. Work with me. Facing him dead on, I touched his belly and instructed him to push again. We were face-to-face. Staring into each others eyes. Slowly, I could see that my message was reaching him.

And then...he...PUSHED!

It was at that time that a stream of urine shot out from between the seat of the toilet and the basin. An unforgiving stream, steady and determined to hit the target directly in front of him---me, his mother.

So....yeah.

If I had my life to live over, I would most likely position myself out of harm's way when wearing my coach's hat in the bathroom.

I just think that way would be a much better approach.


This entry was written in response to a prompt issued by the Group Blogging Experience 2 (GBE2).