I almost had a quiet week

For all you that read my last post about Christina and her antics, it gets better! The day after her multiple trips to the bathroom, we all load in the car on the way to school. Late (as usual), we quickly back down the driveway and start our well-worn drive to school. We get about 1/2 mile away and I hear from the back seat, "Mom, I have to go potty."

Elena and I, thinking that she is joking, start laughing. We had shared Christina's story with all of their grandparents and we assumed that she must be kidding. Well, we assumed until she broke out in tears.

"I really DO have to go!" So, we concluded our dramatic drive with another leap out of the car and dash down the hill towards school. Once again, I wondered why she just couldn't go when we were at home.

That evening my parents arrived just after dinner to take the girls to a local ballet performance. We made sure that Christina went to the bathroom before they left. I was told that from that point they were traveling in the car just a short distance when Christina insisted that she had to go to the bathroom AGAIN. They raced to the location of the performance (about the same distance from our house as their school), and my father dropped the girls and my mother off and they raced to the bathroom. They too were laughing because they had read my blog.

Then, during the first half of the performance, Christina started wiggling and whispers (loudly-as all 5 year olds do) that she had to go potty. So, they found themselves missing part of the performance. Then, during intermission, she went again. That time my father was waiting outside for her and she took so long that he sent Elena after her. (After she went she had to check out all of the stalls, sing a song, use way too much soap, and then dry her hands for an eternity.) So, after missing about half of the performance, they brought her back and shared their experience with me. At least they were laughing. I wouldn't have been so whimsical about the situation.

Now I figure that there has to be something wrong with my child. I assumed that she had a urinary tract infection. I sent Mark to the store to buy cranberry juice while I probed her for information. "Does it hurt when you pee?" "Does your tummy hurt?" To all of these questions I received a hearty NO.

The next day I took her to the doctor. I don't know how many times she asked me if she was going to get a shot. When I arrived I was given a cup and a wet wipe. "Have her pee in here," they told me.

Now, maybe my daughter is different than other children, but whenever either of my older children are asked to pee in a cup it doesn't matter how frequently they've been peeing during the course of the day or how long it has been since they've last peed--once that cup is sitting there waiting for a urine deposit, all of the sudden they can't go anymore.

Now the doctor's bathroom is tiny. It is about the size of a public bathroom stall with a sink attached. Micah, of course, couldn't miss any of the action, so all 3 of us were squeezed into this tiny room while I hold a cup under my hovering daughter.

"Pee in the cup." I was trying to be as positive and encouraging as possible.

"I can't. There is no more pee."

I sighed, "Just try to pee a little bit in the cup."

Christina starts making exaggerated pushing sounds for about a minute. Then, "I can't go."

I remember back to our multiple stops to the bathroom all day. I take a deep breath. Now, Micah had gotten bored and kept trying to escape the bathroom.

"Come on Christina. Just a little bit."

With the most sympathetic look that she could muster she declared, "I just can't go, Mom!"

Trying to be patient, I stood up, rolled my eyes and washed my hands. We returned to the patient room with not even a single drop of pee.

The nurse reentered the room and asked about the sample. I told her that we couldn't even get a drop. She encouraged us to wait and try again. About 15 minutes later Christina tells me that she has to go--and of course it is an emergency.

Now, I want to know how she desperately has to go the bathroom 15 minutes after she has absolutely nothing left in her bladder. Oh, that's right, children like to occasionally exasperate their parents. This time I sent her and Elena to the bathroom. I was doubtful that she really had to go. Of course, about 4 minutes later they show up with a full cup, which they delivered proudly to the nurses station.

A few minutes later the pediatrician comes in. "She doesn't have a urinary tract infection--she is just constipated. The bowels are pressing against the bladder and that's why she has to go so frequently."

All of the sudden, I vaguely remembered Christina telling me something while I was engrossed in reading an article. (Kids never tell you important information when they have your complete attention.) She told me that she had proudly eaten 4 bananas in a row. Suddenly, it all made sense. She was downing bananas at a phenomenal rate-- which caused her to get constipated-- which then caused all of our exciting adventures! Why hadn't I thought of that before?

We returned home and I cooked her a very large helping of vegetables. Thankfully, my bathroom adventures have ceased and my daughter is regular again. What a week!