Pee is Somewhere

So a few days ago I walk into my bathroom and I smell the subtle smell of human pee. It isn't strong, but I knew, it was there. Not a big deal.

The next day, I walk into the bathroom and yep, its still there and it is stronger. Okay. Maybe it will get dealt with, its probably nothing big, I'll dive deeper if it gets worse.

The next day. Yes, I smell it. Its worse. Its awful. I can't find it. I see Kiki underwear and I smell them and they stink. I think okay, finally, we solved it and she has been spoken to. Good.

The next day. I come home, walk into my room and I am slapped across the face with the full foulness of urine. What. The. Fuck. I scrub the floor, I ask questions, no one knows. I put a bleach tablet into the toilet. I go to bed smelling it but convinced it will clear in the morning.

The next morning. No. It hasn't cleared. It fucking reeks in my room and it reeks in my bathroom. It doesn't seem to be bothering anyone. I am obsessed. I smell it everywhere. I clean my room hunting for some piss soaked towel or underwear or bathing suit or shorts, anything. There is nothing. My mother comes over and I tell her about this saga. She comes in for a sniff test and she smells it for sure. I break down, I tell her I don't know what else to do. She says we need to bleach the floor. She thinks someone peed on the floor and the stone tile has absorbed it. We bleach it. We bleach it so strongly our eyes hurt and we have to let it air an hour. We come back, and it still stinks. She's convinced a pipe has gone awry and the piss smell is located in the plumbing of my sink. I just can't comprehend how it can be so. Another hour goes by and I walk into my bathroom. I am physically ready to rip out the toilet it smells so god awful. For some reason the shower curtain is pulled back just a little and I see it. All these splotches of discolored liquid on the floor of the shower. I pull the curtain back all the way and I find it. I find the source of the urination. I call both kids in. Kiki says no. Will says yes. He claims there was no other place to pee. I call bullshit and make him smell it. He knows. We talk about choices, alternatives and previous life experiences. I then rinse it out, spray it down with water and go on with the rest of my day. As I write this though, I smell it. Its disgusting urine undertone stench creeping around my room and my head.

A Lost Shovel

Last week we had our house re sided. One plus of that is we had a huge dumpster come to our lawn. I was able to throw all kinds of trash in it. I tossed broken toys, busted bikes, lots and lots of yard trash and anything really my little heart desired. I thought I had thrown everything I could possible throw away into that dumpster when I realized, no. I had forgotten about the heaps of trash and broken toys located in the playhouse. Damn. I tried to open the lid but I just couldn't. So, I was left with a shovel.
I found this shovel in my entryway. I believe it was my mothers and the tip was broken off so it was trash. I decided this was the impetus I needed to get the playhouse cleaned out before the dumpster was removed. Since I couldn't lift the lid, I couldn't complete my potential job. I instead shoved that shovel as far into the dumpster and it lid as I could possibly cram it. I thought it was pretty secure.
Later that day I left to pick up the kids from school. On our way home, a hundred or so feet from the neighborhood entrance I saw what I thought was a shovel, the shovel, in the road. I thought it couldn't be. I had shoved that thing in as far and hard as I could. I was telling the kids about it. They started to ask a barage of questions about it. Will asked me how sure was I it was the shovel. I told him 90% sure. Then I hear Keely tell me "Mom, you ought to be ashamed of yourself." That did it. I told her she was right. I turned the car around, drove back to the shovel, waited until it was safe and retrieved that damn shovel. Now I still have it somewhere in my car and I live with the haunting memory of her telling me I ought to be ashamed of myself.

Guns Are Dead To Me

Today we had an unfortunate ordeal over guns, again. Personally, I am not a fan of having guns of any sort in my dairy. My son though, loves them and so does every single neighbor boy in our hood. They walk around like a gang, toting some gun they like and making up situations where the guns are necessary.
About a week ago my son shot his sister in the eye with a confetti blaster. She screamed and wailed and while I consoled her I screamed at him for doing such an idiotic thing, having no compassion for his actions and instructed him to throw it away. Only then did he feel remorse. Remorse for losing his gun, nothing for his wounded sister.
The very next day he was playing with a neighbor boy and this boy shot my son in the face. My son literally lost his shit in this kid. He started screaming to the kid to get off his property, to leave his yard immediately. When I finally got to them my son had his gun to this kids face while he intimidated him off our lawn.
Today my son shot another neighbor boy and made this poor boy scream in pain. He tried to get away with it by trying rot make the kid laugh but the damage had been done. I pulled him in and sent him to his room to clean it while I tried to organize my thoughts. During the ordeal I asked him why he did it, He said he didn't know why. I then told him no more guns for the day but realized this was the 3rd time this week I had told him this. I then told him I was throwing away all his guns. That made him cry. He told me I was unfair. Now my blood was boiling inside and I told him what wasn't fair was that I had to protect children from him shooting and hurting them, I left him and returned to my dairy cleaning. Moments later he told me I was selfish. Selfish??!! I asked him why. He told me I was selfish for taking his fun away. I went full psycho. I screamed and as I spoke I noticed the pitch in my voice rising. I told him so sternly that shooting people and hurting them should never be fun. That ended it right there. He cleaned his room perfectly and obeyed the further chore requests I gave him.
I've been mulling it over all afternoon. Going that full tilt crazy takes me a very long time to come down from. I'm seriously not sure where to go from here. I have decided to look into gun  classes and gun training for him. These toys have become excuses to act like assholes. Even this evening I had to tell another neighbor boy to put down a gun. His gun was pointed to his sisters head while he held onto both of them like they were his prisoners. I can't justify tossing out all the guns. This leaves my son singled out. I have options, I just need to decide on the most effective choice. Till then, the dairy is in turmoil.

Hello. It’s me. The long lost dairy operator. Running this dairy has been truly crazy, hectic, mind boggling and exhausting. We have brought a dog to the dairy. He amuses us but has only increased our work load. Today I hauled the kids and dog in raging heat to my mother in laws, school, grocery store, car wash, habitat for humanity, a fruit stand, a thrift store, the beach, the docs and finally home. In that day, my daughter fell flat on her face while carrying a chair and scraped her elbow and hip. My son dropped a large glass bottle all over the asphalt of the car wash where there was no trash can in sight. The dog got terrified of the vacuum at said car wash and kept disappearing. I spent $10, $5 of which was unnecessary but refreshing on trying to vacuum the disgusting cesspool I call a car. We did win at the thrift store when we scored 4 pair of shorts for the boy so he will hopefully quit wearing his thermal layered jeans in SUMMER. The beach was fine as the dog was finally allowed out of the clean but hot, hot, hot car for a few tender moments. At the doctor we learned the boy has bronchitis. What joy. Not sure how he got it but one leading cause is dirty places. That sums up our entire life. So even though it could a multitude of factors I blame myself for being an unkempt farmer. Once home the garden finally got watered after 2 days of suffocating. My boxes I ordered to help organize us came in the mail. 4 of them were smaller than I expected, 3 were great and 3 came without the rope they were supposed to have. A trip to the craft store is needed, too bad. My husband helped hang the triple mirror I bought for $25 today so now we don’t have to have everyone’s toiletries all over our tiny sink. He trusted me to screw in a screw and it went right through the wall. I was fired immediately. Our tiny girl who fell so hard had a huge meltdown and cried and screamed that her elbow hurt so bad she could never take a bath ever again. She was in there to wash her body and her privates of the impurities of sand from the wonderful beach trip. After a few books cuddled with me on a tiny chair it became evident that she may have done more to her elbow than scraped it. Worried an ER trip was upon me, my husband and I coaxed her, albeit gruffly, to prove to us she didn’t need the 40 minute trip at 8pm. Instead I whisked her to the store for some kid chewable bear. My day is done. My mind feels like I ran it through a blender.

Bonding Time

I will be honest. I tend to look at parents whose children are in casts as bad parents. I. Don't. Know. Why. I just feel like somehow they let their children down. I see these poor kids as having troubles as older people because they went and ruined their bones. My brother and I never had a broken bone our entire lives. We were pumped with a ton of milk and vitamins. My children don't drink milk and only when my son reminds me do they get their vitamins.

This weekend has been one of our worst weekends on record. I thought I had food poisoning. I had the typical signs of stomach cramps, vomiting and diarrhea. Only my son started puking and I thought, okay, we both got poisoned. Then my daughter fell off the couch while I was sick in the bathroom. She came to me quite upset but I thought she was just tired. We went down for a nap and she went down fast. She never moved in her sleep and I thought it was odd but again, I played it off. She was fussy when she woke up and she needed help getting up. I knew then that I may need to take her to the ER. We went to the couch and laid  there with my son. She kept crying. I gave everyone some Ibuprofen thinking it was the sickness. My husband mentioned going swimming and all attitudes changed. We went swimming and everyone was happy. We got pizza afterwards and all my daughter talked about on the way home was eating pizza. 

Once home though things started to shift. She ate her pizza but couldn't lift her drink to her mouth without crying. It was then I knew we needed to drive the 1/2 hour to the ER. My husband stayed behind to be with our son who wound up puking again. My daughter and I drove up and checked into the ER. 

We had a doctor try and pop her elbow. We waited. They gave her stickers she would only grab with her left hand. We waited more. They gave her a popsicle she would only grab with her left hand. We waited more. They gave her crayons and paper and she was very happy exploring the room and checking on other patients. We still waited. Finally the doctor came back and felt her collar bone. By this time it was nearly 9 at night. Long past bed time and when he touched her she became very upset. He guessed a broken collar bone and said someone would come to get us for X Rays. We waited and played on the hospital floor. Then that someone came and wheelchaired us to the X Ray machine. He took many X Rays and finally someone else came to help. It took the two of us to keep her from fidgeting. She did like the "skirt" she got to wear and refused to put her jammies back on. We were wheeled back to the ER where we played on the floor some more. Then the doctor came back with a photo copied piece of paper and told me it was for the scrapbook. She had broken her right collar bone. I sat on the floor of that ER and cried. Seeing that tiny body and that broken bone made me so sad. Thinking about how I wasn't there when she fell made me sad. Remembering how we went swimming and got pizza and all the while this little girl had a broken bone inside her made me just cry. The nurses put my nearly naked daughter in a sling and I just cried. They all told me it was fine. It would heal in a week. One nurse told me her friends son broke the same bone twice in the same week. I asked about long term effects and they assured me there was none. I was exhausted, sick and heartbroken. My daughter on the other hand was perfectly fine. She had had a blast at the hospital. They made sure I was okay and said we could go. I texted some relatives and broke the news. We got in the car oh so gently and drove home. She was out within minutes and I drove stoically home thinking about her sweet tiny broken body. 

Already today I can tell she is so much better. She was taking clothes on and off. She was playing with her brother. She is back to normal. Her brother knows she has a broken bone and although he probably doesn't quite get it he is doing a great job being gentle with her. I showed him the X Ray and we have it on our fridge. Her broken bone has been the big topic of the day. Our sweet husband spent the whole day in bed sick and we did the best we could in our current status. I am still exhausted and so thankful it wasn't an arm that broke. I have been a hawk with her and even at that she has fallen a few times over blankets and clothes on the floor. I watched her climb a ladder and change her clothes and I am just so glad it wasn't worse.

Biting

When I was a little girl I bit a boy on his arm. I got in a ton of trouble at school. I was sent to the principals office. My step dad was called to come pick me up. It wasn't pretty dealing with him. When my mom was finally able to interact with me she found me hysterically sobbing. She calmly asked me why I had bit him. She was the first one to ask me this question. I had bitten the boy because I couldn't get him to stop chasing and tormenting me. 

Fast forward 30 years and now I am the parent dealing with a child that bit a girl at school. When picking Will up today a teacher called me aside and told me he hit a girl and he bit her. This was shocking to me but not surprising. Will reacts to situations not in the best manner occasionally. She told me she had a nice talk with him, he was honest and sorry. She explained why it wasn't the right thing to do and why. I thanked her for doing this and letting me know. 

Now, I don't know if having my mom there triggered the memory or made me think twice but when I left the pick up area, I told her I would be right back. My mom is never with me when I pick him up. It was a fluke she was there. Leaving though I immediately went back to the situation of biting that boy. I have never forgotten that story/lesson. I went back to the teacher and I asked her what provoked the hitting and biting. He hit the girl (surprisingly his favorite girl friend) because he wanted her shovel. I have doubts on this one. He usually resorts to violence when things are taken from him, not when he wants them. The teacher did not know why Will bit her. She called over the teacher that reported it to her. She also didn't know. They told me he wouldn't say why. 

In the car I asked him why he bit the girl. He told me it was because of an argument. He wanted a girl to sit at their work table, the girl friend did not. She yelled at him and he bit her. Now of course this is not the right way to behave but at least it makes sense. The girl friend should have let the girl sit down, she should not have yelled at Will about it and Will should definately not have bitten her to stop her from yelling. Have I mentioned these kids are only 3? This sounds like adult jealousy. 

I felt vindicated. I told my mom that biting that boy 30 years ago finally paid off. Friday I will tell the teacher what happened. I did tell her that I was surprised Will would do that to the girl since I know he likes her a lot. She said she wasn't surprised he showed his affection like that. I told her it still wasn't right, girls shouldn't be brought up to like bad boys. I was trying to convey that too many times girls are told that boys who treat them unkindly really like them. It teaches girls to like boys who are rough to them. 

I suppose I still have some talking to do with Will. It was hard to talk to him in the car and I want to make sure he talks to his teacher before he resorts to violence. I know he has the idea I just want to sit with him calmly and go over it again. Also, teach him that you don't bite girls you really like. He needs to take care of and stand up for girls he really likes.

How To Play The Penis Game

We have a boy. He loves his wang. He has recently started to belt out  "Penis" for no reason and out of the blue. This is how we play:

He randomly says "Penis". We could be eating breakfast, tying his shoe, playing trains at grandmas, whatever. You have to say "books" or "carpet" or "zipper". It's extremely hard not to say "vagina". 

See, this is not a game I want to play or that we have taught him about. It's anti-playing. He belts out "penis" and very quickly we have to reply with a word that has nothing to do with penis. A word to change the subject, to essentially kill the penis. It's hard. 

When people normally play this word play game, you say a word and generally say a word that coincides with said word. Such as "peanut butter" and "cracker" or "bird" and "fly". I think "vagina" might be a popular answer when saying "penis". Well, he does it so randomly it forces my mind to jumble and it takes all I have to spurt out "wall" and not "vagina" or something worse. If I say the V word, it's over. He is in hysterics, body parts will be said and the penis will be loved all the more. 

So far we are winning. He is getting creative with answers to our words. It's actually fun. He tried it at the grocery store though. On his dads shoulders. We were surrounded by T Day shoppers. Daddy put the kabosh on our game.