An Example of What Can Happen When One Starts Without a Plan and Gets Carried Away on a Yellow Stream of Memory

Ack!  I totally forgot, until this second, that I have to post today.  I used to be in the habit of posting later in the evening for the next day.  Recently, for some reason I cannot remember, I have fallen out of that habit.  It may be time for another "21 days to a new habit" excercise.

Along with forgetting to post, I have forgotten to finish the knitting that might have been a Wordless Wednesday post.  Now, Wordless Thursday?  Friday?  They don't have quite the same ring do they?  I guess I'll go with Random for today. 

Going by comments left to yesterday's post and talking around, Spring around the country is one of two things:  First, a period of time marked only by calendar days, but possibly not by any other sign or indication, except maybe mud.  Second, a creation of romance, poetry and art that is not verifiable in life, except as Maryse states, that one afternoon in May.  Apparently Utah is the lone exception, where Margene invites us all to come and witness.  Personally, I think she is just making promises she can't keep in the hopes she gets company.  I'm not fallin' for it.

Work continues to be blah, and today I think I figured out what is bringing me down.  Neutrals.  It turns out that homes everywhere are turning beige or black and white.  Recently there has been some burgandy thrown in.  Where is the color?  If I cut another cream/beige/tan/light brown fabric into boring old curtains or blah valances I think I'll deliberately pin prick my fingers and let the bright red stay on the fabric.  (Yes, I do it all the time, but I do remove the blood stain.  You should see what happens when those industrial machines sew through a finger.  Not.Pretty.  Unless you like that color, then it could be a design element.)  If I had remembered my camera, there would be photographic proof.  Beige, brown, cream.  UGH.  I'm dying of boredom in a world of neutrals.

This weekend I'll work on my bedroom treatments and take photos of color.  You might be surprised at what the color is, but I really can't wait to finish them and get them hung. 

This next story is for Sandy, for reasons she and a few others will get.  I was a little Catholic school girl for most of my elementary years (we moved a lot and where we moved to when I was in the 5th grade, the local Catholic school had no room for me in the 5th grade so I got to go to PUBLIC!  My brother and sister went to Catholic, but I.Went.To.PUBLIC!  But that is a different story).  I was a beyond painfully shy and quiet little girl, I remember one day when we were reading aloud in class and when it came to my turn Sister. Whatever Her Holy Name Was said, "Turn your hearing aides up everyone, Teresa's coming from the basement!"   Or something like that in a snarky tone that was unwarranted and mean.  I was just a shy little seven year old that moved every year or two and had hardly any friends.  I'm proud to say that a little glimmer of spunk showed through in that moment and I shouted my reading at the top of my tiny little vocal chords.  That same nun yelled at me during First Communion practice.  She was playing priest with corn flakes for the hosts and I didn't respond "Amen!" loudly enough for the priest to hear and he'd skip over me.  I'm pretty sure JESUS could hear me, and wanted so badly to say that to her, but, too shy.  Anyway, that isn't the story I started to write either.  One morning I was getting ready to take the long walk to school.  I had to walk about a mile, all by myself, I must have been in the second grade, and as I was leaving, my mom, having the perception that only mothers have, asked me if I needed to go to the bathroom.  I lied and said no.  I remember very clearly thinking that I hadn't gone at all since I had gotten out of bed, but was too lazy or in a hurry or whatever and didn't go before I left the house.  Off I went in my little plaid jumper and white peter-pan collar blouse and green neck tie with those snaps, remember those snaps that had a white plastic top with a metal ring around it?  I used to think that the white stuff inside looked like throw up and it grossed me out to wear it.  Like they collected throw up and put little bits of it in snaps for the poor little Catholic school kids, because being one of those, having to wear a uniform and live in a neighborhood full of Publics wasn't bad enough, the powers that be were going to add throw up to your day too.  Again, I digress.  Off I went, book bag in tow, on my long walk to school.  When I arrived, I was just barely on time and had to rush to my seat.  I really needed to pee.  Like, a lot.  Sister. Whatever Her Holy Name Was had pretty strict rules.  Anyone that broke the "don't you dare ask to leave the classroom to use the rest room you will hold it until recess and not one second sooner shall you pee" rule was usually humiliated in front of all the other kids.  And I was so shy and was so sure that these kids that I barely knew were always looking at me anyway and would laugh if I raised my hand to use the bathroom so I just sat in my chair.  I'm sure the yellow was in my face, like a cartoon character whose bladder has overflowed into the rest of her cartoon body and starts to float away on it.  My heart was beating fast and the pain was unbearable.  And then, not being able to stand it a second longer, I let go.  Right in my desk.  Not just a trickle, not just enough to relieve the pain, but an entire Niagara Falls of yellow liquid, through my panties, soaking my plaid jumper, down the sides of my desk, into my books and papers that were stored there and all over the floor.

Yes, let's take that moment of shock and silence.

What I felt then was a confusing combination of comical relief and sheer panic.  I just knew that I would never move from that spot.  I would not get up and let anyone see my soaking self, no way.  I didn't know how I would manage to sneak this by Sister WHHNW, but the pee was like a glue, sticking me to that spot forever.  Then I heard a voice behind me.  "Sister.  There is a puddle of yellow water all over the floor."

Shock.  Silence. Humiliation.  Embarrassment.  Paralysis.

I have never wanted the ground to open up and swallow me, pee and all, as much as I did at that moment.  Unsure at first, of the pee perp, Sister WHHNW took both me and the snitch out into the hall.  My mom was called and off she took me to the doctor, because who pees in the classroom unless you are sick or have a UTI or something?  All because I was l.a.z.y.  I have only one memory of the rest of that year actually.  I've probably blocked out the abuse and we moved again at the end of that year.  Thank God!  A blessed chance to start over where nobody knew me as the kid that peed in her desk.

The one memory I have was when Sister WHHNW came to me before the May Procession of the Blessed Mary that was held every May on Mother's Day.  It was out on the front of the church stairs, an 8th grade girl was chosen to place a crown of flowers, carried by the shortest 1st grade girl, on a statue of the Blessed Mother.  Sister said, "In the meeting they asked who was the shortest first grade girl and I said that I knew just the right one!"  Remember, I was in second grade.  I got to wear my First Communion dress again, it was lace, made by my mom, a mini-dress with bell sleeves.  Very sixties and flower childish.  I processed out with the crown on a blue pillow and took my spot next to that oh, so grown up eighth grade girl, standing straight and true.  We lived in Maryland at the time, so May was not a cool month and the sun was beating down on us so brightly that I had to close my eyes in protection.  In the heat, with my eyes closed and my knees locked I kept slipping in and out of consciousness.  I remember feeling it, falling asleep and then jerking slightly back awake and trying so hard, but not being able to open my eyes at all.  At the end of the service I was frozen to the spot, eyes cemented shut, unable to move a muscle.  My mom had to carry me home and soak me in a cool tub.  Man, I'm so glad we moved after that!

Two hundred ninety-four to go.  Talk about your lessons learned.  I am now the woman that knows where every single bathroom is in every mall, on every highway, at every fairground.  I still scope them out first.  And if you need any evidence of how often I use them, ask my kids, Pete, even Cheryl, who has spent some time with me, can tell you how often I make sure my bladder is empty.         

   

Comments

[margene]

Oh yes, me too with the bathroom thing. Isn't it amazing we survived childhood intact (or at all!)?

[Carole]

Wow, what a story. You poor little thing.

[Kim]

OMG....I haven't laughed this hard in a long time. It's not that it is funny, because as a kid it must have been so painful....but I can SO hear you telling this story...and you do make it humourous!

[Alison]

I can top your peeing in class story. Once in elementary school, it must have been 2nd or even 3rd grade, I was cast as the narrator in a school play of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. The evil high schooler who was stage managing the play wouldn't let me got to the bathroom before the performance started (I probably waited to long and they were about to call curtain), and so in the middle of Act 1, I peed ON STAGE. In front of the WHOLE SCHOOL!

Most embarrassing moment of my entire life, thus far.

[Julie]

When I was in Kindergarten, we sat on a rug for story time. I was also very shy, and one day had to pee but was afraid to ask. I peed on the carpet; the B*tch teacher made me spend the rest of the year sitting on the cold floor for story time! So, I feel your pain.

[PumpkinMama]

You poor thing! I have a similar story, only I was on a "playdate" (they didn't call them that back then) with a very cool girl who I so wanted to be my friend (our moms knew eachother and set us up) and we were at a Jr. Yacht Club (gag!) bingo game and I was way too old to be peeing my pants, like 9 I think, but too shy and awkward to disrupt a stupid bingo game to ask where to go. Peed right in my bingo chair and pink corduroy pants. Awful, awful day.

[Chris]

I so feel your pain and embarrassment of that day. And the odd amusement looking back on the soggy day. I bet most of us have some version of that story in our lives. And weirdo that I am, I'm now thinking "blog fodder!" LOL

[Laurie]

What they got away with back then in the name of education and discipline. It's amazing we are all functional.

[Cheryl]

Oh man, I publicly wet my pants a few times - once when I was way too old for that sort of thing. Yikes. I don't even like to think about it actually.

[Cheryl S.]

How awful for you. It's amazing what kind of people are put in charge of children.

[maryse]

oh god you poor little thing. how mortifying. but how great that you got to move ;) (i started counting on family moves to erase those embarrassing childhood moments.)

i have a pee story for you (although not as horrible as yours). i was 7 or 8 years old and i was so busy playing outside that i kept putting off the bathroom break, until not being able to hold off any longer i just went, right there on the driveway. i was wearing a dress or shorts or something and the only person that i think knew about it was my mom who didn't make a big fuss about it. although she may have teased me about being too busy to play.

[Manise]

Exactly what Kim said!

When I was 7 years old I was in a ballet recital and my mother was in the audience watching. After our performance my mother forgot to come and get me from back stage. I had to pee terribly , also being a l.a.z.y child. I didn't know where the bathroom was in Symphony Hall in Thessaloniki where the performance was held. I was in the changing room and had to make the executive decision to pee in the sink all the while terrified that someone would walk in as I was relieving myself. Thankfully no-one did. Much soap and water was used to hide the evidence. And my mom finally came and retrieved me.

[Lucia]

Ouch. I feel your pain. I once waited almost too long at a friend's birthday party at a roller rink, ran for the bathroom just as we were leaving, had to use a stall with no door on it because I just. could. not. wait. Meanwhile friend's mom was looking for me everywhere, and I still remember being paged over the intercom and having her appear in the stall doorway demanding to know what I was about.

For a long time, like until I was way old enough to know better, like well after college, I was extremely reluctant to use public restrooms. I've gotten over that, although I don't much care for rhymed adjurations to cleanliness while I'm about my private business. (Not that I would have a specific example in mind or anything.)

[sandy]

I was about crying at your story because I can feel your pain but then you said "pee perp". And I laughed and laughed! :D But honestly, all that was so PAINFUL, wasn't it?
But now let me say that I remember you CATHOLICS. You had AWESOME book bags! I wanted to be a CATHOLIC school person just to have a book bag.
Sick, I know.
Hugs for you, such great stories. They are the story of US.

[AuntieAnn]

Oh, I so clearly remember a girl in my 4th grade class peeing on the floor while up in front of the whole class, giving a report. We were all so shocked. Fortunately, I had a wonderful 4th grade teacher, but the sight of her trying to sop it up with paper towels -- I felt so bad for her to be humiliated like that in front of us all.

I've got stories of my own incidents, as well, but they are not nearly so touching as yours, nor could I tell them with as much humor. But -- you're not alone.