Saturday, January 05, 2008

Emma and the Bush

One Thursday before Christmas, Emma, Abbi, and I went on a playdate with our friends the Burttrams - better known to many of you as the "other Emma". Emma's mommy, brother and Emma joined the Powells for an afternoon of outside play at one of the parks in a nearby town. A lady that I had attended church with at my home church informed me of this new park that existed in this new subsection of town that was designated simply for athletic fields and playgrounds. I thought that would be great because it would be newer playground equipment and something neither of us had done before. Many of the local parks are great, but they have playground equipment from when I was little, so some of it isn't as safe as one would like. Well, let's just be honest, you have to supervise more than on the newer parks and therefore more is required of the parent. I know, I am lazy.

So we go to this new park. All but one gate was locked and we snuck in that one gate. Nobody - I mean nobody was there. However, the gate was open and I had been told it was for everyone. So we parked and went up to one of the small playground areas that butted up against a ball field. The girls had fun and the babies slept or just enjoyed the breeze. Then it happened.

You see, both Emmas are potty training. Emma B. announces that she needs to potty and my Emma is adament that she does not. Well, Emma B's mom, being the resourceful and responsible person that she was, decides to take them both because we knew if one did, the other would need to go soon as well. The potty room was locked. Panic follows now. If we load them into the car, then we pretty much kiss the playtime goodbye. We also risk an accident in a carseat on the way to a nearby potty. There were some restaurants just down the road, but please take into account the amount of time it takes to load a toddler and a baby and to drive while missing bumps and then unload a toddler and a baby and find a bathroom that is suitable.

I do have a rather large paranoia for public bathrooms, but it is heightened all the more with a 2 1/2 year old who can (and will) touch everything. I just winced. So you also must take into account the time it takes to rationalize in my mind which bathroom will require the least amount of sanitation in the process and which bathroom do I not mind sitting my carrier down in. I am now sweatting with the cringing and stiffening of my muscles. Ugh!

So, again my very wise friend decides that we cannot dilly dally. We must find a place to relieve the girls at the park. So they did. They found a secluded area and Emma B was able to go potty. Then my Emma realizes that she too needs to go potty. She looks at me with that panic and I know we are very short on time. We go and try the bathrooms once more because someone had driven by and stopped at the concession area. NO such luck.

I then tell her that if she will go in the bushes, she will get some ice cream. I've lost my mind, I know, but she is now motivated. We high step into the shrubbery arrangement - yes, an arrangement meaning not something secluded to the side of the park. It was an arrangement of bushes in the middle of a walkway between two ball fields. Understand, I was under desperate measures. I had to do it. I had to I tell you. It was life or death. So we walk out into the middle of these bushes that were no taller than Emma (2' maybe) and she drops trow. Then she did it! I was so proud of her. She was strongly opposed to going potty outside before and then with the help of our friend Emma and ice cream, she was able to go potty in the bush.

Here is the problem. My child had trajectory output and voided on her pants anyway. She didn't soak them, but enough that new pants were needed. I didn't care. I was just so proud that we could overcome such a dilema. Isn't it sad that I will gladly let my child urinate in a bush, but I cringe at the thought of a public bathroom. I am psycho, I know.

So I change her and we go, where else, but to Dairy Queen. Both Emma's get milkshakes and as we leave the restaurant, my Emma squeels, "let's go pee in the bush, Momma." It was so much fun, that she now desires to make it a regular activity. Oh my little Alabama girl...