Like many people, I loathe having to make the double-goodbye – you know, when you go through the whole “I’m leaving now. Great to see you. Catch you again soon!” routine with, like, EVERYONE in the room, only to reappear a couple of minutes later because you’ve left one of your children behind. It always makes me feel a little like a dog returning to its own vomit – a phrase I admittedly tend to over-use in the same way that, well, a dog might return to its own vomit.
So is it any surprise that, having made my farewells at the kindergarten the other day and dragged Tiddles McGee, his bag and his portfolio of ‘pasting’ masterpieces (= patty pans stuck randomly to cardboard) to the car only to have him suddenly start tugging furiously at the front of his pants, that I opted for my now patented pee-in-a-bottle method?
Now, every time I employ this method, I promise myself that I will dispose of the bottle at the earliest opportunity, to avoid any “I’m thirsty! Ooh, there’s a bit of apple juice left here in this here unlabeled bottle…” high jinx.
And every time, I totally forget about it.
You might ask how anyone could forget about a bottle of urine on their car passenger seat. Let’s just say it takes a special kind of person.
Of course, a few days (yes, days) later, I was driving along when I saw my friend The MR walking along with his daughter on the other side of the road. I hastily pulled over to the side of the road to offer them both a lift to the school. And as I hastily pulled over, I heard a distinct noise. It was the distinct noise of a plastic bottle full of piss rolling off the passenger seat and falling down into a place that could only mean the first thing that would happen when The MR opened the passenger door was that the bottle would roll out and land cheerfully at his feet.
And so I began scrabbling furiously down the side of the passenger seat to retrieve the bottle before he opened the door.
See where this is going? Yes, instead of opening the passenger door to have a plastic bottle of piss fall and explode on his feet, The MR opened the passenger door to find a middle-aged woman stretched seductively across the passenger seat. Holding a plastic bottle of piss.
I think we’ll all agree that’s what’s called a result.
Of course, you’d think I’d remember to dispose of the bottle after that. Yes, you’d think that.
But no. The bottle had to remain in the car long enough that the next time we were parked outside the school, Tiddles McGee was able to pick it up from where I’d hastily stashed it and, holding it out to a large group of parents and children passing by, announce proudly “Here’s my wee!!”.
Needless to say, when we got home from that particular school run, I prioritised putting that particular bottle of wonderful straight into the outside bin. And I’m delighted to report that I got to have a prolonged chat with one of my neighbours while doing it…
By the way, in case anyone’s wondering, the little girl equivalent of “Piss In A Bottle” involves the car bin. But I’ll spare you the details, mostly because I’m still trying to block them out and not return to them like a dog… to its own piss-filled car bin. Oh, and subsequent vomit, of course.
I completely understand how a person forgets about a bottle of pee in the car. I, too, am that “special kind of person.” Besides, it goes nicely with the half-eaten PopTarts and sippy cups filled with a clotted mess that used to be chocolate milk.
Isn’t clotted milk just the best? Especially when it’s chocolate flavoured. It’s like chocolate cheese.
Mmmmm…. chocolate cheese….
I definitely would have forgotten and taken a swig of the pee. When Then Husband and I traveled with the kids, well before modern conveniences like pee-in-a-bottle, TH wouldn’t let anyone stop to pee. I used to have the kids use my empty coffee mug. Then I’d roll down the window and fling it out, thereby completely splattering the kid’s window with pee. This was a technique we used on all car trips.
As long as the kids didn’t have their windows wound down at the time, I don’t see anything wrong with your MO. In fact, I applaud it!
I hate the “return after goodbye” move, too! And my dear hubby drags me through the same debacle every time I drag him out somewhere. He hints that he wants to go, and gives me several “hurry ups”. So then I whiz around saying goodbye, only for him to get involved in drawn-out goodbyes with every single person in the room, even meeting new people to get to know and say goodbye to, while I stand near the front door trying to look inconspicuous as people walk by saying “Oh, I thought you’d gone!” Either that, or I get so fed up that I end up sitting in the car waiting for him, and then other people leave and walk past the car saying “Oh, I thought you’d gone!”
Thanks for making me look like a douche, hubby!
I think it’s best you always pack a disguise in your handbag for such occasions.
If anyone says “Oh, I thought you’d gone!” you should say “What are you talking about? I just got here!”.
Ahhh, the dreaded fear of the double goodbye has me leaving stuff all over the place….
My children ask me to return to kindy to retireve their patty pan glue crepe paper crap. (They think we “forgot”. Yeah.) I would rather piss in a bottle than return for that kids…
Hear, hear!
On a separate note: wouldn’t it be great to go to, say, The Louvre or the National Gallery in London and stick some patty pans on some actual masterpieces? That’d sure make a statement and a half.
Fantastic.
Your own little Trainspotting moment there. You know, for kids.
Sounds like you need a Stadium Pal
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Thanks for that link. I think you just officially Revolutionalised My World.
And certainly, had The MR and I ended up having a tug-of-war over that unmarked bottle, it might have ended up very Trainspotting indeed…
I gotta say, was wildly excited until you said “days” in which I thought “meh”
Now, if you’d said “weeks” like any normal mum, I’d’ve been impressed 😀
Glad to know there’s more than one of us 😀 😀 😀
(How are you by the way – I keep missing you and feel as though I’ve neglected you :))
Well, even a year is made of days. Just sayin’.
And no, you never neglect me. I neglect myself. I’m like my own Tamagotchi…
You are all the most disgusting lot of freaks I’ve ever encountered. Piss in a bottle? Seriously? Who does that?
Kidding. My van is so filled to the brim with bodily fluids that I frequently don a Hazmat suit just to run errands.
Also, one time… (at band camp)… when I was much much younger and literally busting at the seams with piss and vinegar, found myself stuck in traffic on the Bay Bridge in California. It was dark. I was desperate. And my 1987 Suzuki Samurai conveniently had a drain plug in the floor. You do the math.
A drain plug? How civilised! It’s like driving in your very own colostomy bag.
I hope he’s a good aim because loathe to twist the lid back on the bottle and get wee all over your hands. Gah!
Another funny adventure of NDM x
Without going into too many details, the bottle method requires no aiming when it comes to small boys. As my friend The Bearded Iris said above, you do the maths.
Perhaps you should call him Piddles Mcgee. You could always drill a hole in the bottom of the door side bin, and pipe it to the outside of the car. It would add another dimension to pissing in the wind…… 😉
It would also stop people from driving too close to me.
I was actually going to say “from driving up my bum” but was worried where that would take us.
I think that’s wise. You know I can get overly excited………
I find it hard enough getting out of preschool and agree that to return is unwise. That is why recently I let my son do a wee on the grass next to our car while another mother looked scandalised. Was that so bad? But then she doesn’t like kids books on bums/farting/poo.
I have 3 boys and they prefer peeing outside. I make them do it at home when the bathrooms aren’t available. The only reason on earth I would want to be a man is the ability to pee anywhere.
Oh, I feel your pain. I’ve actually been half-way home from school on foot and had to let my eldest child piss against a tree (while wearing school uniform) with half the school community driving past and honking their horns.
I used to carry a ziplock bag for my son to pee pee in. Now that I have the girls, I just bought a cheap plastic potty and shove it under the seat. I do keep a ziplock in the glove for turds though, as you have to PUT the turd someplace after they go.
It’s also quite handy to have a ziplock bag full of shit on hand any way – just in case you need something to throw at the fan…
Honestly, wouldn’t you just love to have a penis (I mean your own penis…..not a pet one…..although that could be good too). I’d give anything to be able to piss in a bottle (never mind kids). Point and shoot. Things don’t get much better than that.
Trish
xx
Too true. Too true. The closest we can get to the shoot and aim is by pissing into a funnel and where’s the fun in that?
This has been so funny to read.
or should I say
PMSL…in a bottle.
I would tend to forget about a bottle
This whole thing had me laughing but the bit I am REALLY, REALLY, REALLY laughing at is that you went to the trouble to stipulate that it was an outside bin that you evenutally disposed of the wee bottle in… x
I have not laughed this hard in a while. My Davey and I just read through a stack of earlier posts. Fantastic.
My brother once lived in a caravan and would pee in longneck bottles because th loo ws too far away. He stored them under th kitchenette lounge bit; he too fully intended to deal with them. Unfortunately, when he had filled about a case worth they were knocked over and flooded the small compartment where he also kept his backpack. He did not tell me before I borrowed it (even though I quizzed him about the unusual smell).
You have the most interesting stories.
We live in the country, where the whole world is a toilet (apparently). I am yet to go there with the ‘piss in a bottle’ trick, and don’t think I will … it might catch on.
I don’t know what to say. Going to go have a look what might be lurking on the floor in my car. Shudder.
I can’t relate to this at all because I’ve never left anything in the car, nor anywhere else.
But I’d like to know, did you empty the wee bottle into the toilet before you threw it out?
You did, didn’t you? Please?
Hubby once peed in a glad bag whilst we were camping. It’s not nearly as hilarious as your tale, although it was pretty freaking funny at the time. x
My precious offspring loves peeing outside when we go skiing.
Stop anywhere on the slope, get the ski suit and thermals down and there she blows leaving lovely yellow patterns in the snow.
Why use a toilet when you can create art?
oh god I am pissing myself laughing. its the ziplock bag full of shit coming in handy thats doing it for me! and the math (NOT mathS!)
Got a 3 year old girl that wees everywhere very happily and a new 6 week old boy that pees all over me every time I open his nappy. And a 75 year old Dad that pisses in the garden like a fox marking his territory evry night.
still laughing!!!
gotta go subscribe now
thanks
This is the beauty of living deep in the woods. We can simply pull over, hand over the box of wipes I keep in the car (I tell people that they’re for the Friday ice creams the carpooligans bring in, but I don’t think I’m fooling anyone with that) and let them find some convenient shrubbery.
And then we take visitors on scenic drives in the majestic redwoods that invariably lead to my daughter saying “And the Ninja peed there, and the Lawyer peed there, and the Ninja pooped there…”