I have a bladder the size of — appropriately enough — a pea. Throughout the day I’m in the bathroom more often than not. My astrological sign is Aquarius — the water bearer — but in my case, it’s more like the water releaser.
I had erroneously thought that as soon as my son was potty trained he’d become my bathroom buddy. I was under the impression that kids went to the bathroom a lot. Yet my son of three far out lasts me at every turn. On road trips as I waddle into just about every bathroom along our way, my son will trail behind me with no greater need than to play with the hand dryers.
I guiltily admit that I’d planned on simply blaming the boy each time (like every 10 minutes) I needed to stop to use the bathroom. But I hadn’t counted on his having a bladder the size of a hot water bottle.
He can go for hours without the slightest urge. He’ll slurp through sippy cups with nary a tinkle, suck down juice boxes and I swear not a sprinkle. Whereas if I so much as swallow my own saliva I have to pee.
Although, I will admit my numerous trips to the bathroom do have a lot to do with a trio of afflictions. One is a massive consumption of water and the other is a sort of fear of having to use the bathroom but not being able to. As people of the Depression Era are known for squirreling away food, I squirrel trips to the bathroom. I do this because my father was a Marine and as a child we took many family road trips, all of which were of the “we’ll stop when we get there or your eyeballs float out of your head, whichever comes first” variety. Oh, yeah, and lest I forget, pregnancy did me no favors.
When the potty training with our son first began I envisioned piles of peed pants and miles of soggy sheets. I trailed behind him all day long sounding like the Verizon guy, “Do you have to go now? How about now?”
I was amazed that I actually had to go to the bathroom more than he did.
The training did take some time and there were a few false starts — puddles on the floor — and many misfires — urine dripping from the bathroom wall. But eventually he got the hang of it and turned out to be a real wiz (tee hee).
Once he made the leap out of diapers (well, he has no butt and often leapt out of both his pants and diapers), it was an incredible transformation from baby to little boy.
I’d feared that with my son out of diapers my nights would now be spent ushering a toddler in and out of the bathroom. But alas, I’m the only one making that trip. If I ever come back as a ghost I know for certain I’ll haunt the bathroom. Although the new homeowners will assume the odd noises coming from that region of the house are just the old plumbing and not me — eternally cursing the utter uselessness of my bladder.
So it came as somewhat of a surprise the other night as I heard a cry from my son’s bedroom. I went into find that the “hot water bottle” had burst and he’d let loose a virtual flood in his bed. Everything was soaked. The poor kid was distraught to discover that he’d even hosed his teddy bear.
Yet I was still proud of my little guy. It was his first accident since he’d gone diaper-free months ago. Quite impressive I think.
As I changed his sheets and pajamas and tucked him back into bed I stopped and reflected. Sigh… It seemed like just yesterday he was an infant peeing in his father’s face. How fast they grow.
Then I realized with a pang that, once again, I had to use the bathroom.