Maybe you’d like to hear about how this is one of my two favorite weekends a year because we get to stay home and watch church via the internet (or satellite t.v. for those who have it). It’s not that I dislike regular church, but there is something to be said for not having to wrangle four kids into dress clothes, get their hair done, and then sit through a 70 minute meeting with them needing to go to the bathroom, get a drink, being bored, wanting a snack, fighting over who gets to sit on my lap, etc. etc. etc.
Maybe you’d like to hear my thoughts on the Masterpiece Theatre production of Jane Eyre which I finally borrowed from the library and watched: eh. Not as good as everyone told me.
What’s that? No? You don’t want to hear about these things? You want to hear about the outdoor urinal one of my daughters dug and two of them used? What?!?!?! How did you know about that???
Well, alright then. But first, some back story.
For those who may be new here, I have four children: A~, who, for all intents and purposes, is 10; L~, who for all intents and purposes is 8; Midge, who is solidly 4; and Tank Boy, who, for all intents and purposes is 3. Tank Boy, of course, gets a lot of blog coverage.
L~, being the middle girl and, for all practical applications, the middle child, probably gets the least blog coverage. Well, today is her day.
L~ is very much a girly girl. At least, she is as girly girl as she can be with me for a mother. The child loves to wear skirts and dresses and has actually burst into tears at the suggestion that she wear shorts or pants outside to play. It has taken us a bit to come to an understanding on the clothing vs. play issue, but we now have a system. I buy her those scooter/skort things from Target whenever I see them on sale, and she wears shorts under her sun dresses, whenever she wears the sun dresses, so as not to show her underwear to the entire neighborhood whilst climbing and tumbling around outside. She has recently even taken to layering her sun dresses one over top the other so as to achieve that multi strap look. Since one of the dresses is about an inch longer than the other, she though the trim of the first sun dress peeking out from under the second sun dress made a nice accent.
Yesterday she shook her head in dismay as she said:
“I can’t believe A~ didn’t want to go shoe shopping with you. I mean, it’s shopping and you get to buy shoes! Shoes!!! Why wouldn’t she want to go?”
I explained to her that A~ just doesn’t care that much about shoes, and even told me that it didn’t matter because nobody ever looks at her shoes anyway. (Umm . . . yeah, right).
“I look at people’s shoes all the time,” L~ said.
Well, of course L~ looks at people’s shoes. She is girly that way.
So, imagine my surprise when, as I’m tidying up the kitchen while the kids are finishing supper, Midge blurts out:
“L~ made this bathroom thing in her tree house and she makes us go potty in it out there!”
What?!? Where is this tree house?!? How have you made a bathroom in it?!? How have we, the parents, not noticed children peeing from a tree somewhere?!? What?!?
As it turns out, it is not a tree house, it is a club house. The club house is a large bush the kids can climb into/under for some solitude. The potty thing is a shallow hole in the ground. L~, Midge, and one of the neighbor girls have apparently been using it off and on for a couple of weeks now.
Oh, and did I mention the clubhouse/bush is in the neighbor’s yard? Yes, I have apparently been sending my children out to pee in the neighbor’s landscaping.
I, of course, blame it all on my parents.
A few weeks back they took A~ and L~ to our state’s premier amusement park as an early birthday present. On the way, someone needed to use the restroom. Being out in God’s country at that point, my father began racing time and small bladders to find a McDonalds or something, anything, somewhere.
He was pulled over for speeding. By a corn field. I mean, he was pulled over by a cop, but next to a corn field. Or maybe it was a soybean field, but really, that would mean it was a corn field last year and will be again next year, so it really doesn’t matter what kind of field it was. What really matters is that, while my father was explaining to the nice police officer about granddaughters and birthday trips and small bladders, my mother was taking my girls out to pee in the field.
My father didn’t get a ticket, but my girly girl daughter apparently got a hankering for relieving herself al fresco.
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt says to get a (bath)room.
Don’t forget the gender selection survey. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, click here. Again, thanks to those who have replied to this survey. It is still going slowly, so spread the word if you, like me, really want to see if we can find some answers.