Tag Archives: pee

Suzy Homemaker Strikes Back

Suzy HomemakerI’m really consistent about cleaning our home – not just straightening up, but actually cleaning. Especially bathrooms. Especially the toilets in those bathrooms. You know, the rim, under the seat, and all around the bottom of the toilet where it meets the floor… I really stay on top of that mess.

[LIES. THOSE ARE ALL LIES. I’M LYING.]

Why do I hate cleaning bathrooms? Because, THE PEE. I know, I know, of all people I should be very comfortable with pee. But it’s different when it’s ALL THE OTHER PEOPLE’S PEE.

Today, as I cleaned up ALL THE OTHER PEOPLE’S PEE, I reminisced about the classic note found in every girl’s bathroom stall. You remember, don’t you, ladies? Say it with me:

If you sprinkle when you tinkle ,
be a sweetie and wipe the seatie !

Except I wasn’t feeling quite so cutesy. So, I’ve updated the mantra:

If you miss when you piss ,
CLEAN IT UP YOUR OWN DAMN SELF .

Maybe I’ll cross-stitch it.

I peed in a bush. [Dad! Blinders!]

I had the best idea this afternoon. I decided to run home from Molly’s soccer practice. (Don’t worry, Mom. Matt was there to drive the children home. I didn’t leave them at the park.)

Getting ready to go to Molly’s practice, I think, “My legs are so white. But it’s SUNNY & 80 DEGREES,” so I break out my running shorts for their 2014 inaugural performance. I also bring my water bottle so I can hydrate while watching Molly dominate on the soccer field. (In this case, “dominate” may be defined as, “run around a lot, get hot and sweaty, give lots of high fives.”)

Practice ends and I realize I’m well hydrated. (In this case, “well hydrated” may be defined as, “I have to pee.”) With no bathrooms nearby, I convince myself I don’t have to go that bad.

One mile in, I have to go that bad. (Shocker.)

I’m running through a neighborhood, seriously eyeing the dense foliage in the lawns I pass. Yes, I’m honestly debating if I could safely submerge myself in some landscaping to drop trow and pee.

Some of you may be thinking, “Why didn’t you just hold it?” To that, I say, “Real runners don’t hold it.” (In a race, you pee your pants. On a training run, you pee in the woods.) Also, I’ve had two children and things don’t lock up quite as tightly down there anymore if you know what I’m saying.

Thankfully, I remember there’s a trail coming up in another mile. I remember this trail because the last time I ventured there (also to pee) it was full of plenty of bushes and brush – you know, THE WOODS. So, naturally, good cover for a quick squat.

I reach the trail. It’s different than the last time. That’s because the last time was at the height of summer when everything was in full bloom. But today is only the beginning of spring and these bare twigs are not going to hide me.

But it’s too late. I’m committed to the trail. More importantly, I’m committed to the pee stop. I put my head down and run for cover. I just keep running – mind you, I have no idea where this trail leads, but I’m convinced I must continue until I reach an acceptable bladder-release site. You have to understand, I’m running on a trail that is only four twiggy branches removed from a row of back yards. Also, I’m wearing a tank top & shorts, and I realize my pasty white skin is reflecting the afternoon sun like a human glo-stick.

Let’s review: I am a human glo-stick, running on a trail, four sticks removed from innocent children frolicking in their back yards, and I have got to pee.

Finally, I reach a row of three large evergreen bushes. Relief! I nestle into the evergreen, turn my back(side), and finally empty my screaming bladder… Meanwhile, I look up to see another row of homes I hadn’t previously noticed (how had I not noticed!?!) in plain view.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

When I veered off course, I had no idea how far I’d have to go – I was just running to find cover, head down, feet moving farther down the path. And in the end, I was still just peeing in a bush in front of somebody’s yard.

Feel free to insert your spiritual epiphany here… running from God, self-protection, you name it.

For today, I’ll stick with this gem: getting caught peeing in a bush is still better than peeing your pants. I think.