I get really tired of cleaning urine from around the toilet seat.
Wait. Let me rephrase that.
I get really, really fed up with cleaning urine from around the toilet seat, on the walls, bathtub, shower curtain, and ceiling.
Yes, I said ceiling.
That's the hand a mother is dealt when blessed with boys.
More specifically, boys who have a hard time aiming when they wake up in the middle of the night and are lucky just to find the toilet bowl. And boys who are zombie-tired in the morning with hours of built up fire-hose pressure in their bladder from a long night's snooze. And boys who wait til the very last mili-second to go because they are afraid they will miss out on something really, really important.
It's something I have been struggling with for a very long time.
I've tried everything. Floating fruit loops. Incentives. Lectures. Begging. Pleading. Crying.
And then the epiphany came. This week in fact. After a long emotional weekend of going through the stuff of someone you have loved and lost.
When I clean my bathrooms this week- urine and all- I will try to do it with a new perspective.
Because, one day (and it's really not that far away) that boy will be gone. Grown. On his own.
And I will wish so badly, that I could go back to cleaning the urine from around the toilet seat.