Wetting the Bed

These days, as my blog name suggests, I am "Super Busy at Home".  Lately it's been..."Super Busy at Home Changing Calvin's Sheets". 


He is only 4 years old.  I know that's still little. 

In the last weeks we have taking to having nightly accidents. 

And once in a while would be okay. 

But did I mention they are almost every night?


So this morning I just cringed when I heard his little feet hit the floor upstairs at 4:20 a.m.

Lord, give me mercy on him. 

Help me not to kill him.

Help me, help me, help me...

Just kidding...I wouldn't kill him. 

It was just that ideal moment, ya know...first cup of coffee in hand. It was after all 4:20 in THE MORNING

So Mommy put the coffee down (put the coffee down and no one will get hurt just echoed through my head).  And went to get the little dearie. 

I ran hot water in the sink to wash him down, frankly because I was too lazy to run a bath. 

And do you know what he said to me? 

Don't wipe off my tatoo.

Classy.  Totally Calvin. 

Okay, baby boy.  Momma won't rub off the tatoo on your forearm.  Don't worry...not going all gangbangers on the scrubbing or anything. 

I've got the moves like Jagger, moves like Jagger...Oh sorry, sometimes I sing those things to myself while scrubbing down peed boys and it makes me feel all stealth...surely Mick Jagger's doing this fun stuff too, right?  :)

So tonight I gotta tell ya.  I was too sleepy to even remake his bed and track down another matress protector gizmo (what is that even called? Work brain, work!) I know.  I am a lame mom.

So I threw the kid in our bed. 

Emma's "not fair-o meter" has been recalibrated lately, letting her sense even the slightest discrepencies.  So she woke up too. 

She wants to sleep in our bed too. 


So that's been my morning.  Anyone have any suggestions on how to get this kid to not pee? Or bodily functions I'm down with, but maybe he could do it in the toilet...novel idea!  In my wonderful parenting moves I've even threatened not taking him to Disney.  I think I said something like "Mickey doesn't want you peeing in his beds either" or something of the sort.  He just echoed back the glassy, sleepy stare that I am sure I have and didn't say anything. 

How come my best mom moves no longer work?   Why can't I make kids cry anymore? 

Ugh.  I'm so lame at my job. 

Now if you'll excuse me, me and my Jagger moves are going to go work on making a matress not smell like urine. 

Yeah! I've got the moves like Jagger!