A kid, A Condom, A Conference

Oh yeah.

Just let your imagination run wild for a second.
Really soak in the title of this entry.
Allow it to activate your deepest corners of devilishness.

Annnnndddddd, here we go.

I have started leading weekly meditations for a Seattle tech company as part of their employee "recharge" program. Every Tuesday at 9:30AM we meet online and I guide them through a mindfulness practice to help support a more present frame of mind and less judgemental view of the world. To me, it's an incredible way to practice my OWN practice while offering a service to the heightened well-being and consciousness of my fellow human beings. All systems and values are a go on this.

Espen is usually at his play group during this time, so I can completely give myself over to the experience of being fully present as I guide new practitioners through an experience.

This week, however, his group was still on holiday break, so I was going to need a plan.

I discussed it with Espen several days in advance to see what infrastructure needed to be in place.

"Hey, Wesp. Do you think you could be quiet for a car ride to grandma and grandpa's house so mom can teach a meditation class?"

"Are you teaching yoga, mama?"

"Basically, yes."

"So you can be a better mom?"

"Well, um, yes."

"When will you be better, mama?"

"It's something I have to do forever, buddy."

"But will you go away to teach it?"

"Nope, I could do it at home if you think you can play quietly for a little while."

"Ok."

"Really?"

"Ok. I won't make a peep."

I'm a bit incredulous at this point since Espen is quite capable of entertaining himself for 30 minutes, but only if I'm not looking or asking for it. But I don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, sooo....

"Alright, babe. That's great!"

Tuesday morning dawns and with it, the realization that I'd better get The Bear some fresh air before the session so he was good and calm DURING said gathering.

We went outside and met 28 degrees.

I had thought it would make sense to shoo him outside while I led the meditation, but this was clearly an Arctic Sign.

We made a brisk circle around the neighborhood and returned to the house. I headed inside, but Espen, refused to enter.

"You go in, mama. I'm staying here."

Now granted, he seems to be generally impervious to cold and had full winter clothes on to boot, but I was skeptical. It was just after 9 and I didn't want him wearing out the novelty of Nature before I was done facilitating mindfulness.

However, I needed to shower and get setup and didn't have a good deal of alternatives springing to mind so I said, "OK" and went about my business.

Shower complete and computer rebooting, I headed outside with snacks for the Tiny House, which I figured Espen could use as his warming hut. I had his favorite miso, snack bars, lemonade and fruit leather. So healthy. So exciting.

He spotted me from the top of his sawdust mountain.

"HI MAMA!!!"

"Hey, babe! I'm just putting some snacks here that you can eat while I am teaching the class, ok?"

"Mama! You eat them with me!"

"Wesp, I can't, remember? We talked about this? I have to lead the class now and you can play outside. Or take a bath."

"Outside. Eat with me!"

"I'll come get you when I'm done, ok?"

"I'll come with you, mama!"

"Well, babe, I need it very quiet in there and I think it'll be better if you can play out here and made all the noise you want."

"Mama! I won't MAKE A PEEP!"

"That's great, sweet one. Maybe we can do a trial run next time. But not today, ok?"

He sat there quietly for a moment, not buying it. Then, something clicked and he smiled.

"Ok mama."

I dashed to the house and checked the computer. No dice. I quickly installed Skype for Business on my phone and prayed for a smooth download. Success.

Because of having a wild card variable in the form of Espen Camino, I had chosen a meditation that focuses on the five senses one at a time. I figured, if Espen came storming in, we could just switch to hearing and use his noise as practice. And so I began.

At about 7 minutes in, I watched as Espen thumped up the back stairs and started banging on the door. I put my finger to my lips and tried to signal going around. He smiled and continued to bang so I walked to the far end of the house, still talking people through the sense of sight.

We had moved on to hearing and noticing sounds close by, middle distance and far away when Espen gained the interior of the house.

He raced towards me as I spoke. I quickly lifted a finger to my lips, praying he would think it was a game instead of control.

He cackled silently and ran away down the hall. I sighed and sank onto the couch.

Espen came barreling back into the room and launched himself on me.

The phone clattered to the floor. The headphones slipped off my ears. I lifted another finger to my lips and picked up the phone. Plugged in the headphones. Walked away from Espen as he chortled.

"You may have noticed I just dropped my phone, this is another great example of how we can practice in any environment, no matter how disruptive."

We made it through smell and taste and were headed into touch when Espen returned carrying something...elastic.

He held it up to me.

"Mommy, what IS this?"

At first I thought it was one of the balloons he'd brought home with Tobias the other day.

But no, it was too...long...

Oh. Sweet. Jesus.

He held up a wrapper.

"It's SHINY, mama!!! I can shine the FLOOR with it, LOOK!"

And he gleefully started waxing the floor with his new favorite toy, The Blue Condom.

And somehow, all my years in the theatre came rushing back to save me. I swallowed. Breathed.
And continued as I calmly walked away from Espen the Condom Cleaner, leaving him polishing away.

"You may notice touch as subtly as the fabric of your clothes resting on your skin...perhaps the pressure of your body contacting
the earth..."

Meanwhile, Espen cavorted around the room, silently waving his Latex Treasure.

I watched as he dropped pieces of his train in it...puzzle pieces, Legos...and then laid it at my feet and walked away.

We finished the sense of touch and I stepped over the condom. Espen smiled.

Give me the howling cats, mommy!

Espen knew Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah before I told him said composer was gone.

We were riding home after his play group one day, just after Mr. Cohen's passing, when Espen began to hold forth.

"Hallelujahhhhhhhhh, Halleluuuuuuuujaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh, Halleluuuuujah, Halleluuuuuuuuuuujah!"

I was feeling the loss of the great songster pretty keenly and promptly cued up several renditions so Espen could get a full appreciation for how gorgeous the song really is.

The first three covers were soulful, Jeff Buckley-esque variations, which Espen crooned along to, demanding more at the end of each version.

And then.

5 young ladies sat in a simple room with a guitar and some folding chairs. They were. Divas. Baby ones, just itching to let their star shine.

The song started without incident. Just a lovely solo, albeit with a few gratuitous trills and runs. Then came the chorus. It was like listening to an aural rendition of 5 Madonnas in Vogue. Espen and I were completely silent, trying to parse all the audio action coming at us like an atomic song.

Then back to a single voice making a play on Whitney Houston's virtuosity.

I looked back at Espen. He had a confused look on his face.

And then the chorus started again, but this time, the sequel was better than the original. In that the voices were even more decorative and thrilling.

But me, I'm a creature of habit when it comes to my Leonard Cohen and I favor the rawness over the roller coaster vocals. To me, I felt like I was listening to a concert of howling cats.

I pressed stop. Espen questioned me.

"Mama, why did you stop the Hallelujahs?"

"Because they sounded like howling cats."

"Oh."

For whatever reason, he didn't press the issue further, which I took as tacit agreement.

Several days later, we are loaded in the car and ready to launch when Espen has a request.

"Give me the cats, mommy."

"Um. What cats, honey? Mimi?"

"No, mommy! The CATS!!!"

He's saying it like I should be WELL aware of what he is driving at, but for the life of me I'm drawing a blank. Did I promise him a bunch of kittens in a moment of exhaustion? Is there a herd of cats somewhere in our house that I should know about? Nothing.

And then he starts ooohhhhing and ahhhhing and luuuuuuuuuuuuyaaaaaaaaaing...and it dawns.

"Do you want the girls singing Hallelujah?"

"YES! Give me the howling cats, mommy! I want to hear them!"

So this one's for you, howling cats. You're famous to Espen Camino. Long may you wail.

The Day I Almost Broke My Kid

It was 3:45 on a Wednesday. Espen and I had spent a lovely, connected day going to music class, having lunch at a cafe and then heading to the Westmoreland Nature Park. We'd been up early due to night potty training and the seemingly endless cycle of half-colds that Fall brings, but we were coping as gracefully as possible.

On the way back, I was overcome by a wave of exhaustion that made Snow White look positively hyper post apple. I could barely keep my eyes open as I staggered into the house and collapsed onto the couch.

Espen bounded over, book in hand.

"Read to me, mommy!" he squealed.

"Espen, mommy is so...tired...I need to close my eyes for 10 minutes and then I'll read to you."

Espen was unimpressed.

"Read to me NOW, mommy!" he demanded, bouncing near my head provocatively.

I have been around this block long enough to know that if I want a moment's peace, I better dig deep and find at least one story in me. So I struggled to sit up and kind of half slurred, half whispered the book to him.

"Go get some crackers and fruit leather and you can have a snack on your little table." I offered.

Usually this is like winning the lottery for Espen, but now that I was offering it, the golden ticket seemed suddenly suspect.

He got his snacks and ate exactly one bite before racing back to the couch and bouncing near my head again.

"Mommy, get up and play with me!!"

And oh, how I wanted to, but I could move nary a finger in either direction.

"Boo, can you just grab some books and toys and play with them inside, or out, for a couple minutes while mommy rests?"

I could feel myself growing desperate inside. Here I was asking for what I needed badly and knowing with each passing bounce, that I wasn't going to get it.

"NO! MOMMY PLAY WITH ME NOW!"

My voice raised along with the cortisol in my system. It's extremely hard for me to remain calm when someone is yelling at me when I have calmly asked for a very simple thing pertaining to my physical reality. And here was my sweet son, inches from my face, screaming that there was no way in hell he was going to give me a moment's rest.

That's when Crazy Kali Mommy took over. I leapt up from the couch stormed towards the spare room.

"Listen, Espen. I NEED to rest my body or I won't be able to be a good mommy for you so I'm going to give myself a time out to try and calm down because I am VERY UPSET RIGHT NOW."

I shut the door. Locked it. Lay down on the bed and pulled the duvet over my head. Yes, I'm 37.
Espen, also acting like a 3 year old, albeit a less verbose one, grabbed a toy and started hammering on the door.

I became unhinged. My brain was screaming, "WHAT THE FUCKING HELL DO I HAVE TO DO TO GET MY NEEDS MET HERE!???!!?!? I AM GOING TO DESTROYYYYYYYYYY SOMETHING."

I flew to the door, unlocked it and grabbed Espen's wrist and marched him outside. He began to holler.

"I DON'T WANT TO GO OUTSIDE!"

"I DON'T CARE!" I said coolly, poison dripping from my voice. I set him on the edge of a table and walked inside.

"Mommy! GET ME DOWN!" he roared. I, however, knew he was capable of getting himself down and plus, just felt plain mean. Like, "Oh, you don't like that? Well that's how I feel too, you jerk."
Completely hijacked by the Rage Monster now, as you can see.

He hopped down off the table and grabbed a stick and started beating it against the sliding glass door. Great, now we were both completely insane and I was no where near controlling myself.

So I ran to the glass door and threw it open and grabbed the stick and threw it on the ground. Espen was all smiles.

I was full of "Goddamnits!"

So again, I ran to the front porch and desperately tried to pay attention to the mind numbing effect of Facebook on my phone.

Espen approached, this time, fully nude.

He walked right up to me and laid his penis on my leg.

This was the closest I came to be startled/amused out of my rage. I cracked a smile and Espen grew bold.

"What are you doing, Espen?" I asked, none too excited to hear the answer.

"I'm going to pee on you, mommy."

I pushed him away, the fatigue coming back with a vengeance. Oh how I wanted to be able to take myself out of the situation and get myself calmed down, but there seemed to be no refuge, no help in sight. I surrendered to the absurd pain of the moment.

Just in time to feel my pants grow warm.
I looked down. A dark stain was spreading across my lap.
I looked up. Espen stood in front of me, one hand on his hip, the other holding his penis like a garden hose.

Aimed right at me.

I roared. Ran inside with Espen running after, stripping my pee soaked clothes off and hurling them on the ground.

"WHAT THE HELL, ESPEN. WHY DID YOU PEE ON ME!!!! I AM so ANGRY WITH YOU RIGHT NOW."

Espen laughed.

I have no idea how I made it with he and I to the bathroom in one piece, but I did. I do remember my body trembling with fury. And I do remember him coming into my bathroom and saying something about his bathwater being too cold. And saying, "Fix it yourself. You know how." And more howling. There was a text to Tobias about how he should come home NOW if he wanted to keep his wife and son mentally intact.

And then the endless regret and anger at reality and myself for being unable to get what I needed so I could be who I know I am capable of being....but now you know why I had to apologize to Espen.

A Very German Thanksgiving

The presidential election has had some notable consequences this year. Namely, that we did not attend the traditional family Thanksgiving due to my inability to avoid the subject of politics with my Republican relatives.

Normally, I would be able to rein my political sentiments in, but in light of the fact that I had tried reaching out to said family members the day after the election only to be rebuffed with reasons of ruining their vacations by speaking of it, I felt particularly convicted that a conversation would have to take place on Thanksgiving.

Why? I voted for neither big party candidate, so it wasn't because my girl lost. It was because of all the suffering and fear I was experiencing in the folks around me who had been targeted by Mr. Trump's rhetoric. And I needed to understand what motivated my own flesh and blood to cast their voice in support of such a person.

Was I worked up? You bet. Was I wanting to work towards a resolution? Yep. But it appeared that only half the Trump voters in the family were interested in communicating around it.

So I had to clarify. I sent out a text.

"Just to be clear, I don't think I can show up at Thanksgiving without talking about the election unless I can have a conversation about the election with you all before hand. If that isn't appealing, we are happy to cancel and spend the day with friends."

The non-speaking half of Trump's supporters were happy to have us cancel.

And THAT is how we came to spend Thanksgiving with our European friends. In fact, and perhaps, ironically, I was the only full blood American in the group. Which, seemed to be in keeping with how the history of the real Native Americans and the Europeans unfolded. So that was very thematically accurate of us.

Espen and his friend Stella were in fine form. Stella is 5 and Espen is 3 and a half and Stella can climb anything that doesn't move. By the halfway point  in the festivities, both Espen and Stella came racing into the kitchen nude, grabbed the door frame and scuttled up to the ceiling, screaming like howler monkeys.

Then they dashed back upstairs
to the bathroom where they resumed cackling madly in a bathtub full of toys.

Meanwhile the adult Germans, the Dane and I reveled on.

Surrounded by the flashing bodies of nude kids, turkey, music and delicious wine, we whiled away the hours until we had finished several rounds of dinner, first and second deserts and a couple bottles of red. We all agreed on politics, debated the electoral college briefly and got back to making merry. It was, as they say, a seamless affair.

Especially for Espen and Stella since they were nude most of the day.

And while I was sad that my family would rather be apart than discuss important issues for our country, I was delighted to experience the easy camaraderie between folks that do not share native languages or cultures.

I know there is a lesson in this about expectations of family being higher and the generosity of friends, but

I am truly grateful for the opportunity to have spent the day with an open heart. I hope my family did too. Maybe next year, we'll have it together.

We broke the US, kid

No doubt this last week will go down as one of the most surreal times in recent memory. For the first time in its history, America elected a president who not only ad-libbed his way to the Presidency, but exploited the suffering of millions of Americans to fuel his bid for the White House with unprecedented disregard for basic human decency. And I'm not talking about the Muslims, women, LGTBQ community, disabled, and veterans.

I'm talking about the Trump voters who thought life had gotten so unbearable that they were willing to overlook the complete lack of basic respect for human dignity regardless of race, gender, physicality and religion that epitomized Mr. Trump's campaign. I'm talking about the people who felt like being accused of criminal behavior was far worse than someone who openly mocked people different than him and incited his supporters to violence.

People don't vote for an overgrown toddler with hair trigger impulse control and no filter unless they are in a lot of discomfort.  But elect him they did and with their vote, they pulled the rest of the country along with them into their tailspin of existential anguish.

Now, I was no fan of either Trump or Hillary, so I voted third party (Green) because I live in a solidly blue state and had the luxury of voting my conscience. But had I lived in a swing state, you bet I would have voted for Hilary because she had the ability to maintain composure and decency even in the face of an opponent who was sexist, juvenile and showing up at national debates and campaign rallies woefully unprepared. AND she was convicted of Nothing.

Mr. Trump had a choice to acknowledge people's suffering and elevate their consciousness by offering solutions that respected all Americans. Instead he chose to inflate their fears and provide easily identifiable targets to pin their disappointments and failings to.

I said early in Bernie Sander's rise to popularity, that it would be a tricky situation if he didn't win the Democratic nomination. All that emotion had to go somewhere, but it wouldn't go to Hillary.

So on the one hand, it was inevitable for Trump to win because the DNC refused to acknowledge both the level of suffering and disenfranchisement of a large part of the voting public and how far they were willing to go to alleviate that discomfort.

Even if it meant switching horses in mid-stride to vote for the only Dark Horse left in the race. The only pill that they weren't TOTALLY sure would be the same kind of bitter as Hillary Clinton.

That's a hell of a wager to make, especially if you're a member of one of his scapegoat groups. Like women. Or people of color.

But it was one many of them were willing to make.

Even people I had thought were made of clearer ethics than my own, chose to vote for Trump. Members of my own family decided it was excusable to act without respect and decency, which I am still considering how to respond around.

It is perhaps one of the most disappointing experiences of my life, knowing that good people were willing to overlook such glaring flaws in a potential leader, even if they were manipulated by conservative media, overzealous peers, or naive ignorance. All you had to do was LISTEN to him and ask yourself, "Would I talk like that to my mother? To my good friend? Hell, to a stranger?"

And the answer would have to be that America didn't care about that enough to keep Donald Trump out of the White House.

In fact, only about 58% of eligible voters in the US actually VOTED in the election.

Oh, and Hillary Clinton won the popular vote. Donald Trump won the electoral vote.

And the Senate and House have a Republican majority, which means that unless Donald Trump manages to offend and alienate most of Congress, he'll have the opportunity to make some major changes to American Reality.

The big question is, What will he change?

If his campaign is any indication of his inclinations, the environment, minorities, women and NATO better start shoring up their ramparts.

In the meantime, I'm building relationships with people in my community, especially the ones who were targeted by Trump's vitriolic rhetoric. I'm donating money to organizations who support the environment, minorities, refugees and LGBTQs. I'm actively seeking ways to become involved in local government.

And you know, though I would have preferred a peaceful and compassionate evolution of our society, we got the quick and painful reveal of just how deep our divisions and wounds are in this country. We can't look away and pretend that everything is status quo as usual, even if we voted like we wished it were. Granted, if we are white, upper middle class folks, we won't be in trouble regardless of what Trump decides from taxes to bigotry, but we won't be able to get far before realizing that SOMETHING is different in our world.

For that, I am grateful. For that, I have hope that if we continue to stand for the world we wish to see, where people are treated with respect and value, one day it will come about.

But we must stay awake. We must look at what we take for granted that others cannot. We must ask ourselves how much we are willing to invest in a future that is truly fit for our children. We must consider deeply who we are and what gifts we have to offer to this worthy cause of healing and evolution.

Then we must act. And continue to do it for the rest of our lives until all beings receive the dignity and love they deserve.

Ho'oponopono Espen

Dear Espen,

You may not remember this incident when you are older, but I will because I behaved in ways I hoped I never would.

There are several things I want you to know about me that I have tried to keep out of the picture of your childhood. I did this because I wanted you to have a childhood that was as carefree and blissful as it could possibly be. To me, that meant having two parents that were happily in love, healthy and pursuing their paths to become the best version of themselves.

I want to speak to the healthy part. For most of my 20's and 30's I have experienced a variety of symptoms that have left me feeling physically exhausted. Rather like I'm running on empty with the light flashing for the last 40 miles. Because of this, I have unconsciously kept an energy accounting ledger that had enough in it to keep me more or less financially independent and able to live on my own, but precious little else that wasn't directly related to healing or infusing me with hope...like ecstatic dance, reiki, writing, music....but all of that had to stay small. Just a dance here or there. An impromptu song once in awhile-but nothing sustained, because it took too much out of me. I just didn't recognize how much I counted on being able to carve out space to just lie in bed all day if I miscalculated my available energy.

After I had you I realized just how tenuous my balancing act had been. I could hold down a job to pay rent and food but had nothing left over to invest in relationships or pursuing my real dreams. I could dream and live with my parents forever or survive on my own with little glimpses of what my life could look like if only I had the energy to follow those dreams. But I always had the option to retreat from the outside world and my dreams because no one was depending on me.

Having you was so clearly my destiny that I have always known there was something I needed to do and learn despite my physical exhaustion.

One of those lessons has been that I need to do everything in my power to heal from whatever is causing my body and mind to be so fatigued. And I also need to find a way to accept my reality exactly as it is because you never know if things will shift or stay the same.

But the thing is, I have also discovered what some of my deep patterning is. And let me tell you right now, it's the thing I am most ashamed of. I have spent so much time wishing it were not so, but it just makes it that much more regrettable when it gets the best of me.

I speak of my hair-trigger anger. That thing you saw yesterday when I suddenly went from sleepy to raging in the blink of an eye. Almost like there was an invisible line that had been crossed which transformed me from your loving, calm, patient mom into a frustrated, erratic, frighteningly cold monster.

It feels so terribly uncontrollable when I sense the anger welling inside me. I can see it coming like a tsunami and I can't seem to get out of the way. It picks me up and tumbles me around until I, and anyone in its path, are bruised and scared.

And I tried to explain it to you yesterday, how I saw the path unfolding, but it's alot for a little one to work with and that's why I am writing this now-- so you could read it later with more life under your belt.

The progression looked like this:

I am exceptionally exhausted.
I try to advocate for my need. (a 10 minute nap or some such)
I am unable to get my need met. (you want to have someone play with you, which is totally valid)
I get sad because I think I can't take care of myself and consequently, can't take care of you.
I want to fight for my needs so I can be a good parent.
I get angry that I am failing, that my body is failing, that my reality is not what I want it to be.
I lash out at you or anyone else within reach to try and dull the sadness.
It doesn't work and I start an emotional tailspin.

And that's when I make choices from a place of complete reactivity. It's such an undesirable emotional space to be in. Seeing that I am causing damage and yet feeling helpless to stop it.

All of that to say, it is my responsibility to accept this, to work with this and to make amends for the pain it causes the people I love.

I have explored several ideas for what is at the root of this wild emotionality and physical exhaustion. I have worked with Tibetan physicians and yoga to build up my body, naturopaths and therapists to try and pin down a clinical diagnosis that I can address, acupuncturists, shamans, life coaches and intuitive healers. All of that has allowed me to be a reasonable version of myself since having you...but I want to be better. I want to be fully energized and vital so I can run and play with you like you desire.

I am now about to embark on a path of retraining the brain to function on a more relaxed level. My sense is now, that I have been living with a heightened, long-term stress response for most of my life. Essentially, that my brain perceived a trauma long ago and jumped into high alert and never fully came back to baseline.

Without going into all the science behind what chronic, long-term stress can do, let me just summarize by saying that it produces all the symptoms I currently have because it shuts down all non-essential systems in the body...like higher level cognitive function, digestion, immune response and countless others.

This letter is my attempt at making amends for any pain and stress I have caused you because of the lessons I am still learning. I want you to know how deeply sorry I am for this. I want you to know that I am being proactive about mitigating my imbalances because I value the process of self-development and I believe it is possible to remember the light we have inside us more consistently.

Please forgive me for my shortcomings and the harm I have done you through my lack of self awareness and control.

I love you the best I can every day and I will continue to do so throughout eternity. And I love my own soul too, which is why I can write this without defining myself as my mistakes. Mistakes are opportunities to grow and get up again and I will do so as long as I have breath in this body.

Thank you so much for carrying your light and spirit in the world, Espen. You are the clearest individual I have ever known. I am so grateful for your steadfast sweetness and infinite love.

Always,
Little Mama

No Robot? Let Me Pee on the Floor

Espen and I had a magical time at Ecstatic Dance. Most of the time was spent on a giant pile of pillows with a host of other fairy children, pretending to be trains, boats and anything else that would justify scooting around in a line of pillows while adult children fluttered about them pretending to be sexy unicorns and what not.

We then perambulated to the nearest chai shop and toy store. Namely, Finnigan's. Which is also a magical place filled with wonders beyond any 3 year old's wildest dreams. Espen has some pretty good ones, so when we walked in, he immediately requested either amphibious cars or flying cars. Both, preferably.

The toy guys were suitably stumped, but only for a moment.

"Yeah," said one guy who looked like a young, geeky Hagrid, "We had an amphibious vehicle, but now we only have submarines that run in your bathtub and water helicopters."

Espen looked provoked. Once he saw the water helicopters though, he started getting excited.

"Mama!" he said, grabbing my hand and lunging towards the display, "They have biplanes too! Amphibious ones! I want both of them."

I kindly demurred much to his everlasting dismay. He began to bargain.

"Well, mama, how about I have one now and one at home?" Why indeed.

"Listen, Espen, you can either have one helicopter or the submarine."

"Submarine."

"Ok. Let's pay for it."

All was well until I turned my back to hand over the credit card.

And he saw the robot.

Really, it was more like some possessed remote control car that could had wheels on every imaginable surface so you could flip it over, on its side, make it spin somersaults or pretend it was a merry go round from the simple toggle of a switch.

It's an oddly beautiful and horrifying thing to watch your child realize that there is shit in the world that you have not told him about that is BLOODY AMAZING.

Espen looked at me long and hard. Then he looked at the possessed car thing and squealed.

"Mama! I WANT THAT ROBOT CAR SO BADLY!"

And he meant it too. I could feel it in every fibre of the kid's soul.
And you know, I wanted to give it to him.
But not yet.

I still want him to get lost in a mud puddle instead of an ipad. To be fascinated by a bunch of rocks because he doesn't have anything more flashy to grab his attention. There will be plenty of time for him to marvel at the technology of the 21st century, but for now, I want to keep his immediate possessions firmly rooted in the natural world.

Soapbox aside, I said no. And led him to a different part of the store after he had a turn at the controls.

We stood in the corner by the die cast cars and ambulances, and for a moment, peace reigned.

Until he had to try just one more time.

"Mommy. Can't I PLEASE have that robot?"

"Sorry, Wesp. Not now. When you get older."

He stood there looking at me, silently.

I looked back. And then down at the pool forming at my feet.

And I became a robot.

Pee.
Floor.
Wesp.
People.
Do something.
Pick up child.
Hold child tightly against body to stop pee.
Walk calmly but quickly from store.
Do NOT look back.

And that, folks, is the human stress response in 10 seconds flat.

Espen wanted his submarine.

There was no way in hell I could process that kind of benevolence whilst covered in pee and fleeing the scene of public urination.

"No way are you getting that submarine when you just peed all over the store."

He screamed like I had ripped his liver out and dropped to the pavement, writhing in fury.

So half walking, half dragging my furious pee soaked child towards the car, I tried to get my higher level cognition back online.

"Why did you pee on the floor, Espen? You didn't even give me a chance to find a place for you to potty!"

"I want my submariiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!"

Sigh.

I understand now, weeks later, that excitement over robots can trump the evacuation impulse in 3 year olds. But then, I didn't. Then I was just a blindsided mom covered in pee trying to regain perspective.

But now, I am happy to report that Espen has a submarine and I have only been peed on twice since then.

To be continued.