Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Urine Adventures

As you know, this last weekend we went to PT to visit with family. A fun fact about me that you may not know is that I have the weakest stomach on the planet. Really.

So on Sunday morning, I climbed out of the tent and was greeted by some raindrops. I slipped on my soaking wet flip flops and headed up the hill to my cousins house. About half way up the hill, Mr P starting bellowing out my name. Since a bunch of people were still sleeping, I rushed towards the direction of his voice. There, in front of the "man cave" (this is what the boys renamed the tent they slept in) was Mr. P with a large wet spot that encompassed the area from his belly button down to his knees.
"I peed." he stated without any remorse
"I see that." I lamented with a ton of remorse, "Buddy... How come you didn't get up outta the tent last night to go pee?" I paused here, waiting for a reaction. After not getting one I continued, "I know that it's dark and probably pretty scary being up by yourself here. Let's get you changed." I helped him find some clean clothes and told him to put his dirty ones in the plastic bag that we had designated for items such as these. This plastic bag happened to be in the back of the van.
I went back up to the house and as I opened the door, I nearly walked into Miss Z who was walking out.
"Miss B peed in the tent!" she exclaimed, "and it's on me and Faith!"
"Where are you guys sitting?" I asked as I picked up my pace and entered the house to look for the girls. "You're not sitting on the furniture, right?" Just as this question was coming to an end, I saw that they all were sitting on the cloth couches with a large group of people.
"Girls! Over here, now." I said in my sternest while whispering, you-are-in-so-much-trouble voice. "What are you doing? You're covered in pee and you're getting it everywhere! Not to mention you guys stink!" Turning my attention to Miss B I say, "Darlin', why are you still wearing those clothes?"
"She said that she slobbered." blurted Miss F
"What?" I was totally confused.
"I woke up this morning with pee on me and Miss B said that it wasn't pee, it was slobber."
Shocked at this admission I stared at Miss B, trying to maintain my cool. "Slobber!?! Come on, Miss B! (pause for staring into her soul) Slobber!?! You've got to be kidding me. Girls, go change your clothes." They meander their way to the door, wanting to watch cartoons with the other kids instead. "NOW." I had had enough and I still wasn't coffee-ready. Just then my husband walked in the door. I gave him a quick recap and asked him to pleeeeease take care of it. Now, by "take care of it" I meant get the girls clean clothes, shower them, and pack the stank bedding in a separate garbage bag along with the nasty clothes. He agreed to "take care of it" and so I headed for the pot of coffee, grateful that he had showed up when he did.
The morning continued on and suddenly I realized that we were cutting it close if we wanted to leave in time to see The Big O play soccer. I grabbed my purse and Mr. P and told my husband that we were off to get gas for the drive home. I also asked if he could pack up while we were gone. He agreed, being the wonderful guy that he is. Mr. P and I put our hoods on and headed down the hill towards the van. I fished around in my purse for my van keys while we made the hike, to no avail. Once down there I began taking out the larger items (wallet, make-up bag, ect.) in order to be sure that my keys weren't in there. Nope. So Mr. P and I head back up the hill to the house to find husband and retrieve the keys from him. At this point I was trying to not get irritated and kept reminding myself that it was no ones fault that I was walking around aimlessly in the rain.
"Honey... Can I have the keys? The van is locked." He checked his pockets and something awful appeared on his face - it was bad news, I could tell.
"They're in my other shorts." he reported
"Where are your other shorts?" I asked, knowing all to well where they must be but hoping for a different answer.
"In the back of the van." He immediately got up from his seated position and began asking me if any of the windows were down, blah blah blah. My dad got up and offered to help him try and get into the locked van. So the three of us headed back down the hill in the rain while I teased husband about locking the keys in the van.
Standing there, watching my weather stripping fly off in different directions, I decided that it was bad for my health to stress out while watching them shove coat hangers into the space between the window and the door. I kept commenting about how they were electric locks and this wasn't going to work. Recognizing that my presence was a bad idea all around, I headed back up to the house for the phone book so that, if they couldn't get the van unlocked, we could call a locksmith. I retrieved it, handed it off, and went back up the hill to try and talk myself out of getting worked up. I sat down under an out of the way awning, to try and stay dry, and waited for the result of this predicament. About five minutes later I heard hoots of approval. They had succeeded. And so I rounded up Mr. P once again and we headed out for gas. On our little escapade, we got a little lost but eventually found our way back again. Taking longer was more than okay with Mr. P as he and I were busy discussing "bad guys" and talking about how their aren't necessarily bad guys but just people who make bad decisions.
Upon our return, I went into the house and found that my husband had decided to take a nap on the couch. Disappointed that husband had napped rather than pack, I walked back down the hill to get it all done. The rain had stopped and the sun was peaking through the mass of clouds, so I was feeling a little better ~ in a general sense. I packed up our tent (where husband and I slept) and all of it's innards and then began to carry them to the van. Opening up the back hatch of the van, to my dismay, I saw Mr. P's peepee clothes strewn across my suitcase. It crossed my mind to have him come down and put his clothes where I had asked him but this would require going back up the hill again. So I tucked away my middle, ring, and pinky fingers in order to get a minimal touch, vice grip on the items. Upon lifting the pants and opening the garbage bag (that already has peepee sleeping bag in it) I was accosted by the distinct and STRONG odor of 12 hour old urine. Immediately I began gagging. The quick cure for my over zealous gagging reflex is to pull my nose away from the offensive smell; following the normal protocol, I dropped what was in my hands and stepped away from the van. Normal protocol apparently didn't apply on this doomed morning...
After wiping the area around my mouth (gotta make sure that there isn't any stray vomit), I tried again. Afterall, husband is asleep and who else is going to do it? {And if you're wondering, yes I was fairly irritated with his sleeping self at this point. But again, I was telling myself that he had a rough time sleeping the night before and that he works really hard and he deserves a moment of peace.} Continuing to gag, I worked with one hand holding a clean shirt over my face and the other doing the grunt work. When the endeavor was finally completed, I headed back to the girls' tent to make sure that husband had gotten all of the shoes and clothes that tend to get left behind. I unzipped the girls tent and BLAM, there it was again. I was accosted with the smell of 12 hour old urine. I immediately stumbled backwards, gagging more, and realized that husband had a different definition of "take care of it" than I.
Meanwhile, a crowd of cousins began to form. They stood in a large, loose circle around me watching to see if I would indeed lose the rest of my breakfast. Once the gagging subsided, I had one of them go and grab a bunch of garbage bags and called Miss B down from the swing set.
"Miss B, I am not cleaning this up. I just can't clean this up. But Miss J is getting you some bags and you're going to have to put the sleeping bags into the garbage bags, tie the top so we don't have to smell it on the drive home, and make sure that all of the clothes are in the bags as well." She nodded in understanding and began her task. Meanwhile, I hiked up the hill to grab the cooler. I unloaded the ice cold water and packed it up. My dad (who felt bad for Miss B) and Miss B brought me the bags of peed on items and I shoved those into the back of the van as well. Not three seconds later, my husband walks up to the van.
"Nice timing, babe. You plan that?" I ask him.
Wiping the sleep out of his eyes, he laughs and jokes that this had been his plan all along. He hugs me and we all head up the hill for lunch.

3 comments:

southerngirlmusings said...

Okay, my sides are hurting! :) I am glad to know that someone else gags over such things, I rarely can go into a public restroom without gagging. I am glad taht you got your coffee and were able to be Superwifemom.

Raquel said...

If someone stanks up a public restroom, I'm destined for a bout of gagging. Especially the scary gas station ones and, now that I think about it, Costco as well. Their bathrooms are just wrong.

I'm glad I got my coffee too. Most days aren't like that but when they come around at least I know, in the back of my head, that it'll make a good story!

Sarah G said...

LOL..you KNOW every time their "definition" is always different than ours. Even with 8 years of marraige tucked under our belts, I still forget to share the details of what I mean when I ask my dear sweety to ...take care...of something!!!! LOL