When you become a mother all humility pretty much goes out the window. It starts when you’re in labor and from what I can tell it continues until your kids move out of your house. I no longer get privacy when I pee, shower or change. I was considering bolting the door closed but I have the sneaky suspicion that they will find an open window or a way to propel in from the roof. Kids are good at finding you. They really should work for the FBI.
My kids are getting older so we have actually started to lay some ground rules about not walking in on mommy in her granny panties. I mean good grief I don’t need an entire preschool class getting a full on description of my underwear during circle time. I still have nightmares about the time my oldest walked in on me peeing before preschool. He asked why my penis looked funny to which I replied, “Honey mommy doesn’t have a penis. I have a vagina. Now can you please get out so I can finish and we can go?” I remember thinking I handled it perfectly. Crisis averted. Therapy avoided. Then we walked into preschool and he told all the moms in the lobby that his mommy has a penis on the inside. “It’s so weird. You can’t even see it.” He’s almost eight now and I know he doesn’t remember this but I’m fairly certain there are a few mothers from that class that still talk about me at their book club while clutching their pearls.
My oldest is pretty good about boundaries and privacy. I think it is because he is suddenly realizing he too would like some privacy while using the toilet. I’m glad to have him on board. My four year old on the other hand still doesn’t get it. He would gladly greet the mailman in his underwear. He still thinks it’s ok to pee in the backyard even if we have company. I thank potty training during the summer months for that one. Now when I tell him it’s unacceptable I’m often met with, “But the dog does it.” It’s hard to argue with a four year old. Their thoughts make complete and perfect sense to them and trying to argue with them is like banging your head into a brick wall over and over and expecting it to collapse. The wall will still be standing but you will wind up with a massive headache.
I can tell you any advances I was making with teaching my four year old about boundaries were thrown out the window this morning. Today I had to do something that I have never had to do. I had to bring him with me for my annual exam at the gynecologist. Yes. That’s right. He had to come to the lady doctor with me. First off let me just say that in our house we have always referred to body parts by their real names. Despite the fact that the word vagina has been said in our home, the four year old still thinks it’s called a China. I know this because the other day on the way to school he asked me if all girls have a China. I told him yes and he then proceeded to name every single girl and woman we have ever met in our entire lives and repeat, “Fill in 80 names here has a China. We hit every traffic light that day because of course we would.
This morning I carefully explained to him that he was going to have to come with me to the doctor. Ladies you all know how hard it is to get an appointment with the OBGYN especially if you see a group and you want someone specific, so cancelling was just out of the question. I told him he could pick a special snack to have afterwards if he was good. I told him he could bring his iPad. I have never hoped and prayed more that my child would stare at a screen than I did this morning. I told him it would be quick. He agreed to all the bribes and we were on our way. When we arrived there was what seemed like an unusually high amount of pregnant women in the waiting area. Now I know that this is where pregnant women go to get checked, but I’m telling you it seemed like every other chair had a pregnant woman sitting in it. The four year old turned to me and with a lower than normal voice (thank you Jesus) said “Geez mommy why do so many ladies here have babies in their bellies? Is this where you come to get one put in? Are you having a baby put in today?”
“Mrs. Lizza can I have you fill out an updated information sheet for me.”
Again thank you Jesus.
Before I knew it I was being called in for my exam. This is where it gets dicey.
The nurse weighed me (can I at least take my damn shoes off) and then she asked me to give her a urine sample.
4yo: “What’s urine?” Volume level: 400
Me: “It’s pee honey. Be quiet and follow me.”
4yo: “Ewwww. You have to give her your pee???” Volume level: 850
Me: “Yes. Come into the bathroom and close the door.”
4yo: “How are you going to give her your pee? In your hands?”
Me: “No. In a cup.”
4yo: “A CUP??? You mean that thing. It’s so big. Do you have to fill the whole thing with your pee?” Volume level: 1,105.
Me: “Honey, please. I can’t pee with you being so loud.”
4yo: “Why not? Is your pee scared of my voice? Because that would be weird.” Volume level: 2,200.
I then proceeded to hand my bucket of fearful pee to the nurse and walk into the exam room.
4yo: *Pointing to foot stirrups* “What on earth are those things?” Volume level: I’m sweating.
The nurse handed me my paper doily to keep me warm (laughable) while wearing my open in the front gown. I didn’t need the paper doily today though because I was sweating from the fear of the future therapy bill for both me and my son. All I kept thinking was oh my God we are going to have to remortgage the house for the therapy bills. We might have to move. Circle time. Oh for the love he has circle time tomorrow.
The nurse then proceeded to ask me what my husband and I were using for birth control and all I could think was THIS. We are using this very day as our birth control. It will work for now and all of eternity. She looked at me and asked if I wanted to speak in code. In code? Is there some secret code language for mothers who have to bring their child with them to this appointment that I don’t know about? Could someone have handed me a pamphlet in the waiting room? I don’t know code. Instead I proceeded to mouth my answers and much to my delight she understood me. God bless her.
She told me the doctor would be in shortly and told my son he could sit in the chair against the wall facing the stirrups. Now I was really sweating. I was considering high tailing it out of there because I was picturing him going into school and me getting phone call after phone call from every mother in the class. As I put the gown on, my four year old was laughing. I looked at him and said,“OK honey. It’s not funny. I have to wear this.”
4yo: “What is it? It has a big hole in the entire thing. It doesn’t even make sense. You won’t let me wear those jeans to school anymore that have a hole in the knee.”
Just as I was about to tell him he could wear them to school every day for the rest of the year, the doctor walked in. She talked to him for a little and then to me. She stood up and looked at me and said OK well what are we going to do with him? Hmm.
“Hey buddy, come with me I bet the nurses have some work you could do at the nurses’ station.”
4yo: “YES!! Awesome!”
Me: “YES!! SO Awesome.”
Her: “Yeah I don’t need to be the reason he needs therapy.” *Wink*
It was like she was in my brain. Oh thank you Jesus. My four year old does not have to witness my annual China exam.
She came back in and we laughed and laughed about being mothers, having boys and dealing with things our husbands simply could never understand. As I walked out my son was sitting with the nurses sorting through stickers for all the kids who come in with their mommies. I told him it was time to go and he stood up with a smile. The woman in front of me was expecting and she was making an appointment for her next ultrasound.