Porta-Potty Pressure Cooker - Part 4 - #3 of 5

This post (the fourth in a four part series) is a month late. I started writing it, and it kept growing. The more I sat down and wrote on it, the more I wanted to say, and the longer it got. Since it was (collectively) a HUGE post, it got put on the back burner.

If you are just joining in for the first time, may I suggest you catch up by reading...

Part 1 - I opened up with a little "personal information" that may shed some light on this topic...

Part 2 - My journey into bathroom hell begins.

Part 3 - Waiting in line to get one step closer to a meltdown

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Porta-Potty Pressure Cooker - Part 4 - #3 of 5 - The Final Chapter

It was while we were sitting in the car waiting for #1 of 5 to get through the line at the bathroom (the bathroom he could not wait to get to, yet ended up waiting in a long line anyway) that my frustration level was close to bubbling over. Thank goodness #1 of 5 is old enough that he does not need adult supervision... That was the only thing that kept me from "losing it".

That was until #3 of 5 said (while the rest of us were waiting in the car) that he too needed to use the bathroom...

(stunned silence....)

(more stunned science...)

(crickets chirping...)

You have GOT to be kidding me?? He didn't just say what I think he did, did he? For the love of.... Oh, come on now...

Almost in tears at this point, I turned to #3 of 5 and pleadingly tried to convince him that he could hold it.... I begged him... I reminded him he was going to have to wait in a line that was so long that he may as well just wait until we got to Grandma's house (our destination)... I was actually convincing him into believing he could make it.

Waving my hand across my field of vision - in my best "Jedi Mind Trick imitation"...

"These are not the droids you are looking for"... "These are not the droids we are looking for"

"You do not have to go to the bathroom as badly as you think"... "I do not have to go to the bathroom as badly as I think"

He agreed that he did not have to go "that bad", and once #1 of 5 made it back to the van, we hurried on our way.

Things were going well until we reached the highway. Once we were on the highway, and the "light at the end of the tunnel" was not far off, #3 of 5 started his "pee-pee squirm".

I started the "cheerleader" technique...

"Come on man, you can do it... Cross those legs, we'll get through it"!

...nearly ever quarter mile.

It would come and go in waves. I did not want to stop and use another public restroom... This time, I WOULD have to go in. We were less than fifteen minutes from Grandma's when #3 of 5 started whimpering... Less... than... 15... mintues...

Around the "10 more minutes" mark the whimpering had become increasingly intense, and frequent. By this time, my frustration level had not only bubbled over, but was popping and hissing on the stove top. I felt he was not going to be able to "make it".

I know what you are all thinking at this point. I am a bad Dad for letting it go this long. You don't have to pretend that you are not thinking this, I was thinking it myself. What a mean and cruel thing to do. Now, not only was I dealing with frustration, but I was dealing with HUGE amounts of guilt... The turmoil inside me was overwhelming...

It was at this point that I snapped... Yup, folks... I admit it... I snapped. While driving down the highway, took the next possible opportunity to swerve the van off the highway onto a residential side street. MOF yelled "What are you doing"? I just kept driving.

It was dark. Very dark. It was residential.

MOF (again) asked me what I was doing. I told her that I had not found a "secluded" enough spot for #3 of 5 to "take care of business" yet, but I would.... House after house... Nothing suitable could be found.

Wait... What was that? An unusually dark area... No houses... and a parking lot too!! I made a quick turn into the lot, and was face to face with a empty, unlit baseball field.

"Get out... Hurry!!" I told #3 of 5 in the best "non threatening" voice I could muster... (Trying in vain to ease my own guilt for letting things get this far...)

"What do you want me to do here" he asked..

My inner-most sarcastic voice wanted me to tell him to "Catch the next pop-fly" or other such nonsensical, smart-alecky comment, but my conscience would not allow it.... (Thank you God....)

"Quick, run out to the middle of that field, and "water the grass" I told him... (allowing myself to use a smart-alecky comment, but not using one directed TOWARDS him...) "I'll turn off the headlights. Make it quick so no one will see you!! Hurry!!" <strike>so I don't have to smell the pee in your pants from "not making it" all the way home.</strike>

He ran out into the field, bounding like non-pop-able (yet filled beyond capacity) water balloon.

#3 of 5 made it to somewhere in the "shortstop" range, when I noticed he was "watering the lawn". I quickly turned off the lights. If anyone saw this late night - unauthorized act of defiling the baseball field, surely I would loose my children to Child Protective Services... Especially when the kids told CPS the story of how I was using bladder torture techniques on them during the interviews...

I sighed (again)... A broken man. Look what I have done...

Between my anger for having to stop a THIRD time to use a (public) bathroom, and my guilt for making my son suffer for my hang-up - I was beyond composure. I was going to need to distance myself from this whole experience so as to not <strike>say</strike> <strike>yell</strike> scream something I should not.

Hold you tough FOF... Hold it... You can hold other things (like your bladder) well... Hold back the inevitable temper tantrum you are about to have... Hold it... H..O..L..D.. I..T..

#3 of 5 made his way back to the van. My hands gripped "white knuckle style" around the steering wheel as #3 of 5 crawled back into his seat. You could cut the tension in the air with a dull knife, and you could hear a pin drop. Yeah, it was that quiet. They all knew that now was not the time to say anything, lest cause me to go completely off my rocker...

I started backing out of the lot, when I heard (in a small timid voice from the back of the van) "... Um, Dad..." - and as I turned to see which one of the five was going to get the brunt of my fury, when The Mother of Five started to giggle. First the MOF, then another one of the kids.. It was not long before everyone (except me) was giggling. This is NOT what I needed right now. As I turned my head so as to address the whole lot of 'em (to receive equal portions of my rage), I spotted it in the corner of my eye...

I had not noticed it when we pulled in because the direction the headlights were facing, but as I backed out and swung the headlights around the opposite direction... There it stood... In all it's glory...

A Porta-Potty. Lit up by my headlights... Standing there mocking me...

I had all I could stand. This was the straw that broke the camel's back... My emotions were going Kilauea on me. It was out of my control at this point... Look out everyone, because there was no stopping it...

When all of a sudden, (and VERY unexpectedly) I started laughing... It was as if the floodgates burst, and instead of erupting in a fit of anger and rage, it all came out as laughter. Not "crazy guy" laughter either... Real, true, "I can not believe the irony in all this" gut busting laughter...

The more I laughed, the more the kids and my wife laughed... Then, the more they laughed, the more it caused me to, and so on... I bet we sat for five full minutes, all laughing at how this all worked out...

It was the best possible outcome that could have happened.... It broke any and all tension I was feeling... The stress was gone... We were in tears from all the laughing... All seven of us... It was a memory that wont leave me for a very long time.

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I think it's fair to say that I learned a lot about myself that day - about my shortcomings, about things I need to worry a little bit less about, and things I need to worry a little bit more about. I learned some meaningful lessons (through trial, error, and failure) about what being a dad... about what being a GOOD dad... is really all about.

We still get a chuckle of this story. I guess it's only fitting (and well deserved) that I have had to relive this story many times by sharing the story with family and friends. The kids can't wait to tell the next person (who has not heard the story). "Tell _(name)_ the story about the bathrooms Daddy"!

But, let's get one thing straight... I STILL HATE (and will avoid at all costs) public restrooms...

Porta-Potty Pressure Cooker - Part 3 - #1 of 5

This post (the third in a four part series) is a month late. I started writing it, and it kept growing. The more I sat down and wrote on it, the more I wanted to say, and the longer it got. Since it was (collectively) a HUGE post, it got put on the back burner.

If you are just joining in for the first time, may I suggest you catch up by reading...

Part 1 - I open up with a little "personal information" that may shed some light on this topic...

Part 2 - where my journey into bathroom hell begins...

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Porta-Potty Pressure Cooker - Part 3 - #1 of 5

Once the fireworks were completed, it was time for the mass exodus of people. We had set up not too far from the parking lot so we could make our hasty retreat when the time came, and that time was NOW...

There was a tsunami wave of people (literally in the thousands) walking down the path that led to the porta-potties - only they were heading out towards us - and away from the porta-potties.. This WAS NOT the best of moments for #1 of 5 (a twenty year old) to announce that he now had to use the bathroom...

Given the number and volume of people, and the fact that #1 of 5 would have had to go against pedestrian traffic patterns, I estimated we would have had to wait for him for well over 45 minutes before he would be back to where we were... And then, we would have to fight the traffic exiting the ramps...

Both the Mother of Five and I urged him to "hold it" untill we got to the car - and then we would (quickly) find a nearby filling station where he could "un-fill".

Reluctantly, he agreed.

#1 of 5 made it to the car. Once we got situated in the car, and his having to "sit still" (which he has problems with even when he does NOT have to use the bathroom) only made things worse... He was bouncing in the car, and threatened that if we did not get to a bathroom soon, he was not going to make it. (but he was much more crude with the description of what was going to happen...)

This got me aggravated again... A bit because he could have gone earlier (before the fireworks), a bit because he should be able to "hold it" and a bit because we were going to have to stop and find him a "public restroom"...

Sigh...

"TMI WARNING": I am able to (easily) "hold it" for a whole day...

Why #1 of 5 could not hold it for another 30 minutes is beyond my ability to comprehend...

Being familiar with the area, I drove to the nearest gas station so he could "go".

So the rest of us sat in the van waiting for #1 of 5 to use the bathroom. It started becoming a "noticeably long wait" when we finally spotted through the window #1 of 5 was (still) standing in a long line of people...

He would have been better off letting me drive a few more miles and found the third or fourth closest gas station, because (since this was the closest) it was very busy. He ended up waiting in a line long enough that we could have been half way home...

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Could this be it? Could things possibly get worse? If you have spent any time here on The Life of a Father of Five, then you will know that it undoubtedly will...

Trust me, you've come this far already... You wont be disappointed... Stay tuned for the fourth and final chapter...

Porta-Potty Pressure Cooker - Part 2 - #5 of 5

This post (the second in a four part series) is a month late. I started writing it, and it kept growing. The more I sat down and wrote on it, the more I wanted to say, and the longer it got. Since it was (collectively) a HUGE post, it got put on the back burner.

In the first episode, I talked about how this post came to be, then went into a little bit of background into my personal "bathroom issues". If you have not yet read Part 1 then click HERE before reading any more.

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Porta-Potty Pressure Cooker - Part 2 - #5 of 5

So, there we were at this year's Summerfete. Since the Mother of Five had taken the kids on the "half mile each way" jaunt to the Porta-potties a couple of times already, I had high hopes that their need to "go" had been satisfied. I also understood that if they did need to "go" again, I would very likely be called into service.

Alas, just as the fireworks were to begin, #5 of 5 started her "pee-pee dance", and told Mom that she had to "go"...

Nervously I looked away - pretending I had NOT heard nor seen her, but MOF turned to me and reminded me how many times she has made the trek to the porta-potties already...

Reluctantly, I broke down, and in a bit of a "huff", we headed out.

Of course when we arrived (after worming our way through the crowds) I was face to face with my idea of a nightmare a bank of twenty porta-potties all lined up in a neat little row - and LOTS of people all around...

Sigh...

We found an open unit, and I took her inside.. So far things were going smoothly... That was until I could hear (from the end of the row of porta-potties) a couple of teenagers, snickering with that distinctive "Marijuana Laugh" as they ran down the row of potties beating on the backs of each potty as they ran past.

I have to admit here, had I SEEN this as a "spectator" rather than EXPERIENCE it as a "participant" (from inside the potty), I would have gotten quite a chuckle out of it.. But, I was inside... And I have "porta-potty-issues"...

Sigh.... Darn kids...

When she finally finished, we headed back towards the rest of the family, and arrived at our blanket just as the fireworks began... And I began mellowing back out a wee bit.

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If you thought that ending sounded WAY too good to be true... You'd be correct! Hang in there, and see where Part 3 takes us!

Porta-Potty Pressure Cooker - Part 1 - The Introduction

This post (the first in a four part series) is a month late. I started writing it, and it kept growing. The more I sat down and wrote on it, the more I wanted to say, and the longer it got. Since it was (collectively) a HUGE post, it got put on the back burner.

I recently read a post by My Family and Other Animals titled Pioneer of Blogging. Towards the end of the post she talked about her husband and (I think) teased him a bit about having to take one of their children to a public restroom. Upon reading this, I was inspired to finish the yet-unfinished post with some similar content...

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Porta-Potty Pressure Cooker - Part 1 - The Introduction

Before I head any further into this story, I need to explain something to any new readers. I HATE PUBLIC BATHROOMS... Hate 'em. Can't stand 'em. Having to choose between messing myself and using a public restroom... I'd have to seriously consider my options.. SERIOUSLY... CONSIDER... THEM...

Many of you know (and for the sake of those that do not), I suffer with a pretty significant case of Paruresis / Parcopresis. Some times it's a "germ thing" (have you seen the inside of a men's restroom?), but most of the time it's about it being a "Public Restroom Thing". Not until many years later, while reading the Strategies listed on the Wikipedia Page that I realized (without knowing it) that I utilize 14 of the 19 listed strategies. (That's a whopping 74%)

Add to this, a God (with what I believe may be a wild sense of humor) who would team me up with children that (much like wild animals) have a natural instinct to "mark their territory"... EVERYWHERE... You are left with the fact that we are unable to go anywhere, and I... MEAN... ANYWHERE... without having to use the bathroom - and often, several times.

Does it matter that they "just went" at the last store? No... They have to go here too.

Does it matter that the next stop (in a mere 15 minutes) is our home? No... They can't "hold it" for another few minutes..

So, more often than I care to think about, (and against every fiber of my being) I find myself inside a public restroom.

Now you know more about me that you EVER cared to...

While at this years Summerfete celebration, my children were unable (like they always are) to maintain composure of their bladders and / or bowels. My wife (bless her public-restroom-loving-heart) knows to what extent I will go, in order to "not go", or even "enter" a public restroom.

I think there have been a couple of times that I have successfully shocked her with how far I will go in order to "not go"...

Again, blessing her (public-restroom-loving) heart - she will almost always take the kids to the bathroom... almost... And as much as I appreciate this (which is more than she will ever realize), she too has her limits.

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Hmmm... That sounds like some "foreshadowing", and perhaps a little "segue" into Part 2!

Stay tuned...