Uh, Ok, I'll Try

By now the world knows Jeff was in a severe accident and Life Flighted to a trauma hospital in Portland. He was left having a difficult time doing ordinary things......like getting to the bathroom to pee. The wheelchair barely squeaks through the door. Plus, he was unable to get to the chair to get to the bathroom. So we had a bit of a dilemma.

One of the kids had a great idea, a BIG jar. Yeah, I thought I could live with that.

Yes, you read that correctly, thought. I'm trying, really trying, to be with him as often as I can, doing as much as I can, and that includes emptying the jar.

However, I cannot touch it when it is hot, I have to hold my breath and close my eyes as I empty it and rinse it out. By now you're thinking, "she had how many kids?" I kind of sucked as a mom too.

I could do diapers and spit up ok, but big kid pee, poop, or puke, uh, no. Really, I AM terrible. I'll throw them a pan, and a wet towel from the doorway and tell them to call dad if they need something.

They puke, I puke. Simple as that.

While I was emptying one of the jars the other day, it reminded me of the time in 1996 when Jeff was living in Oregon and the family was still in Washington.

We made a surprise run down to Portland to see him. It was about a 2 1/2 hour drive from where we lived at the time, so it was an easy shot.

We only had five kids then, they were 14, 11, 6, 5, and 3. The two oldest, Karli, my daughter was 14 and Cole, my son, was 11.

I had all of the kids pee before we left the house. Then we stopped for a bite of food, and of course something to drink. I made the kids all go to the bathroom again.

I thought we could make it the rest of the way to Portland. Cole couldn't. He cried, he whined, and carried on until we had no choice but stop for him. He did his thing and jumped back into the van.

We got about 45 minutes down the road and he had to pee again. There was no way I was stopping another time, no way. The kids searched around and finally found a soda cup, without a lid, in the van. I told him to go to the back of the van, do his thing, then give the cup of steaming hot pee to Karli and she would pour it out of the window.

Well, he peed, and he peed, and he peed, nearly filling the cup. Then he gave it to Karli, she began gagging because it was so hot, and, well, it smelled like pee. She put down the window, while carefully trying not to spill a drop, and went to pour the pee out of the window.

Well, I guess when you're flying down the highway and attempt to pour something out of the window, it sort of, goes up your arm.

Karli let our a shriek and promptly began to gag and gag badly. The other kids and I, however, were laughing hysterically. There was no towel in the van, so we searched around for napkins, anything to try to dry her arm and her long sleeved shirt. There was nothing.

So we had to drive the rest of the way to Portland with Karli gagging, the smell of really strong pee, and hysterically laughing kids.

I think of that drive every, single time I empty the pee jar. I always grab it from the top part of the jar so I don't feel the warmth, I'd totally lose it. Then, as I said, I hold my breath, rinse the jar, take it back and use a bottle of Purell on my hands.

I must love him, I guess.

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