Frightenbush and the Nudies

First of all, I'd like to state that there are a lot more people who would wander around nude in public if allowed than you might think. And it's not necessarily the traditionally "hot" people either. Or just young ones. Or the Europeans, though they definitely have a cultural pre-disposition to casual social nakedness.

Now I've always had a nose for sniffing out socially transgressive ideas and experiences, so it was no surprise when an old high school friend invited my family along on a "Summer Solstice Retreat" at the wilderness destination, Breitenbush Hot Springs.

I was born and raised in Portland, Oregon so a little weirdness is in my blood. Notwithstanding that, I was also raised in a pretty culty religion, so the idea of nature, vegetarian food and celebrating the sun with other similarly inclined naturalists suited me fine.

Tobias being Danish added just the dash of European liberalism needed to make this a great idea for our family's summer solstice. Espen, being a captive audience and fond of his parents, was loaded into the car and shuttled off towards The Wild.

On the way down the road, we briefed him on the impending festivities.

"So we are going to Breitenbush, honey. It's a very magical place in the old trees where people don't wear a lot of clothing and there are hot pools of water from Mother Earth to play in."

Espen looked out the window and nodded benignly. "Ok, mama." No big deal. Cause you know, when you've been around the world and hung with Naked Danes in the Dead of Winter, a little temperate, summertime nudity ain't no thang.

After hurtling down I-5 for approximately 10 minutes, Espen decided he no longer wished to be captive. Howling commenced.

As a fun aside, I've been retraining my brain to come out of a limbic cycle of perpetual fight or flight for the last two months and while I've made a great deal of progress in the process of re-educating my brain to believe that life is not actually trying to kill me constantly, my four year old princeling can make my brain forget everything it has learned in about 5 minutes of solid hollering. I am always amazed by this.

In went my earplugs and up went the volume on his manic Danish kids music. And so we progressed towards our Forest Frolic.

An hour later, we drove alongside the North Santiam River, Espen hollered out by this time and stuffing his face with Tobias' Emergency Trail Mix--which now glittered the entire back of the car and much of the front due to his newfound skill of hurling projectiles and general disdain of his Errant Parents.

I love the drive up this corridor. As a child, Hwy 22 marked the coming of Saturday Jesus summer camp at Big Lake. As an adult, the soon appearance of Mystical Breitenbush.

The mists were hanging low over the river and trees clutched the sides of vertiginous canyon walls. I pointed this out to Espen. He demanded that the explosion of trail mix be removed from his space immediately.

"Mama, take this AWAY!" he gestured meaningfully around his lair.

"Babe, you did that all by yourself. You can do it again when we arrive at Breitenbush."

He was not impressed by my laissez-faire attitude about housekeeping on the road. Somehow, however, he decided to refrain from commenting until we turned onto the Breitenbush road.

This road is part of building the Breitenbush Experience. It's very rustic and very gravelly and very filled with potholes of indeterminate depth and intention. Espen was thrilled.

He craned his neck to look at the towering trees above.

Whispered with church like reverence.


"Mama, is THIS Frightenbush?"

Tobias and I looked at each other. Tried to keep straight faces while simultaneously attempting to determine if the other had planted such a seed in the child. We both shook our heads. That was all him.

But an answer must be had. So.

"Uh, well, yes honey. I suppose it is. Nearly."

Espen sighs happily.

"I love Frightenbush. I want to stay here with the nudies forever."

And of course, I'm imagining him declaring his fidelity to Frightenbush and The Nudies with great feeling and volume in the midst of all the bushy nudies in the hot pools. Clearly so is Tobias.

And yet. From the mouth of babes...

We said nothing.

But Espen sure did.

A day into the adventure, we're on our way to the hot springs pools and there are a lot of Very Impressive Bushes. I mean, it's the middle of the ancient forest for Hippiesake and people are clearly proud of their hirsute values. Espen is once again transfixed.

"Mama, look at her hairs! She's so fuzzy!"

I should have been prepared, but he had a point. She is. They all are really.

You know it's one thing to see a single lion but another thing entirely to see an entire GROUP of them all together at once. You just have to behold the glory. No talking. Just glory.

Espen pulled on my hand.

"Mama, why are there so many fuzzy people at Frightenbush?!"

If I'd had a mic, I would've just dropped it there and called it a Good Solstice.

How To Get Your Kid Drunk

Pay Close Attention:

1. Let Your Child Try Your Home Brewed Kombucha Very Infrequently As A, "Special Treat"
2. Allow Time To Pass
3. Invite Other Parents and Children Over
4. Buy Much Cider
5. Crack One Open and Pour it Into A Common Drinking Vessel
6. Drink Half and Get Involved in A Conversation
7. Place Vessel On Counter At Kid Height
8. Fail To Realize Cider Looks Much Like Home Brewed Kombucha
9. Walk Away To Check Out Something Interesting For 5 Minutes
10. Return When Your Wife/Partner Yells, "Espen (insert your child's name here)! STOP!!!!! That is an ADULT Beverage!"
11. Witness Your 4 Year Old Saying, "But I LIKE Kombucha!" and Your Wife Responding, "It's not Kombucha, It's beer!"
12. And Your Child Saying, "Well then, I LIKE BEARD!!!"
13. Remove Your Empty Glass From Your Child's Hands
14. Take Him Outside
15. Water Him
16. Pray None of the Parents Notice Anything Odd With Kid
17. Wait Patiently For Parent Of The Year Award To Arrive

S(h)itting on the Eiffel Tower

Tobias ran the Shamrock Run last Saturday, Espen and I hovering at the finish line at 8AM in solidarity. Our family unity was undeniable. After a mad dash to the trees for an emergency pee that COULD NOT WAIT, Espen decided that he was as "fast as Dada" and proclaimed it loudly to amused bystanders in running tights. Then, he announced that I should carry him as he was tired after watching Tobias cross the finish line.

I should have taken this as a sign for the day's impending festivities.

After heading home and changing into more sedate clothing, Tobi, Espen and I headed down to Milwaukie on our bikes for some fresh air and fun. We dropped Tobi at the Warrior Room where his fellow kettle bell rats and Shamrock runners were assembling to celebrate their ferocity.

Espen and I headed over to the Portland Waldorf School to romp around their grounds and get up to shenanigans.

It was a lovely day, the sun was out and blue sky punctuated our unusually rainy winter.

We frisked about in the sand pit for quite some time, digging for treasure and making bmx tracks to leap around-more Espen leaping than me. I was like the nanny car making sure he didn't impale himself on his digging stick.

I'll admit, I started looking for a new environment after about an hour of wild sand play so we headed over to the playground. But that is right next to the most enticing structure on the property. Again, I should have been a bit more aware. But no.

Imagine the Eiffel Tower if you will. Its stable base tapers into a needle like tower that rises skyward. So elegant. So timeless.

Now imagine that same Eiffel Tower, but this time, made out of ropes connected in geometric configurations that allow the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower to emerge while simultaneously providing the opportunity to scale it from bottom to top. Now shrink it from a couple hundred feet to about twenty and you'll have a working concept of this playground witchery.

Espen has seen this structure before and has had the sign read to him that says something like, "For children age 10 and up"

But Espen Camino cares not for numbers and ages. He cares about climbing into the rarefied air of rope towers.

He dashed towards the tower, hollering behind him as he went. "Momma! I'm going to climb ALL THE WAY TO THE TOP!"

Tobias recently had to scale said structure to get him down so I wasn't worried about him being incapable...it was more of a test to see if he'd listen. I've been conducting trials over the last few months to see if there is any noticeable movement towards acknowledging my voice as other than background noise-so far, nothing indicates this is the case.

Just so, when I asked him to return to the playground he kept hauling ass to the Eiffel Tower at top speed and hit the first level of ropes laughing.

Up he went with admirable speed and confidence.

"Come up and get me, mama!" he teased.

"I will not. You come down." I countered.

"Ha ha, mama! I'm going to the top!"

And so I waited at the bottom, ready to try and catch him if he fell.
Which would have been sad, but just the TINIEST bit satisfying to say "I told you so".

But he did not fall. He just climbed right up to the top like a spider monkey. And then proceeded to cackle with delight at his accomplishment.

"Ok, Boo. You can come down now." I acknowledged.

"Nope! I LIKE it up here, mama!" he hooted.

And then two blonde wonders ran up and launched themselves at the tower. They were probably 6 or 7 and man were they fast.

They shimmied up that rope geometry faster than I could shout cosign. Espen was ecstatic.

"HI FRIENDS! COME ON UP!" he encouraged, waving his hand happily.

Come up they did. And then proceeded to leap onto the center pole that is 20 feet tall if it's 2, and slide to the bottom, hugging it like a plump grandma all the way down.

I could see the amazement in Espen's eyes as well as a healthy dose of awe. He was not ready to attempt such a feat, but he would sure cheer them on.

"Come on guys! Let's race!" he shouted. And the boys were happy to oblige.

My eyes were racing back and forth like it was a top level Tetris game. No way could I keep up with all that movement. The boys' adult didn't seem particularly concerned as he checked his phone and ate the kids' sandwiches so I focused on Espen.

The boys soon tired of winning every round and raced off to new distractions. Espen however, moved into a blissed out contemplation high atop the tower. He hung his legs over one of the ropes and leaned forward to rest on another. Looked out over the playing field.

"Momma, it's real pretty up here." he smiled.

"I'm sure it is, love. Why don't you come on down and we can go ride our bikes a little more?"

He gazed across the field again and then looked down at me benignly.

"I'm peeing, momma."

"What? Boo. No. Just come on down and pee here."

He smiled and stayed put.

"It's ok, Momma. You can just change me in the car."

"No, honey. I can't. We rode our bikes here. Come on down and pee."

He shook his head slowly.
"I already peed, momma."

I considered my options and realized we would be riding 2 miles back home in pee-pants. There were no clothing stores. No way I was putting him on public transportation. And now he was putting his hand down his pants...and then rubbing his eyes....his...nose...oh, god...nooo...his mouth.

"Espen! Get your hands off your face! That's really germy! Now come down here! Mommy is leaving."

I turned to walk away, because really, that's the ONLY thing that seems to shake me out of "background noise" role.

He scooted down the tower, but as soon as he hit the ground, he began to waddle.

He put his hand down the back of his pants before I could open my mouth. But he opened his and inserted his hand.

"I pooped, momma."

Espen had some great poop stories as a baby. They were messy, inconvenient and public, yet I was fine. He was a baby. Poop is a given.

But this was something else entirely. This was, "I'm having too much fun to pay attention to my body so I think I'll just poop my pants rather than inconvenience my play/contemplation/activity."

On the one hand, I get that. Bodily functions are pretty inconvenient as a general rule. But use a damn toilet or tree if you have the wherewithal to do so. Just please. But no.

"Espen, get your HAND out of your MOUTH. It's germy. It's gross. You could make yourself sick."

He rubbed his nose.

"AAAAA! STOP!!! WITH!! THE!!!! FACE!!!"

He smiled at me.

I check his pants, planning on just throwing the undies into the trash can and getting home as quick as possible.

But no again.

No usual well formed poop greeted my eyes.
Only slurry. And corn. I think.
Every. Where.

Yay for parenthood.

But not yay for me. Boo. BOO for me.

I realized I couldn't take off his undies because he'd soaked through not only undies but also shorts and was moving on to his sweat pants. Poop soup. Gah.

"Welp. You're going to have to ride home in your poop pants Espen. I haven't anything to put you in."

He looked at me in disbelief.

"JUST CHANGE ME IN THE CAR!!"

"We rode our bikes."

We stared at each other silently for a moment, gauging sincerity.
I moved towards the bikes.

"Let's go."
He tried to follow but well, his heart just wasn't in it. Imagine.

I shot off a quick text to Tobi.
"Your son just shat himself."

Then I looked at the clock and saw we had about 4 hours of daylight left to go 2 miles. And suddenly I was back in the land of story problems.

If Espen moves at .2 miles per day, how many hours will it take him to cover 2 miles? Please show your work.

Cue theme music from the movie, Alive.
It's go time, Mama. What are you gonna do? What are you gonna DO?

So I grabbed Espen, ran back to the garbage can, popped off his shoes, his socks and his sweats and threw them to one side. Then. I peeeeellled off his shorts and undies. He was yellow. And chunky. And smiling with glee.

"Good, momma! Let's go!"

I swabbed him once. Twice. And that was all the clean fabric to be had on his shorts.
Into the trash can they went.
Towards his bottom flew his hand.
But mine was faster.
I tried not to think of all the things his hand had touched.
Put his slightly pee/poop damp sweats back on. Socks. Shoes.

And he was off at a run towards his bike. Free at last. Or freer anyway.

Tobias showed up at that moment with the promise of wipes at his kettlebell studio but I was done. The germs had been spread, the ecoli likely burrowing down and getting acquainted with my son's immune system.

"We're going home. You go back to your party."

To his credit, Tobias walked us as far as the river, pulling Espen back from riding into traffic at every intersection. Yes, Espen knows better. But clearly this was Freedom to Give A Shit Saturday, so what the hell.

For the next two miles Espen alternated between licking his hands and dragging his feet until we were home. Somewhere around the half mile mark, I stopped caring if his feet were tired.

We rolled into home and he bolted for the door. I caught him mid-stride.

"Strip."
"I want to get in the hot tub, momma!"
"Not until you're sanitized. Now strip."

I probably should have burned all our clothes, but I had Lysol handy and I was tired.
No, I did not Lysol my child. But maybe I should have.

He has never been so thoroughly cleaned in his life.
And for that matter, neither have I.

Don't Tell Jackie

We had a cousin rendezvous at the Aquatic Center last Wednesday. Espen was raring to see Mathis and had come prepared in his swim shorts so all he needed to do was strip off his shirt, shower and hit the pool.

Right before he showered, he looked at me and whispered, "Mama, come here."

He never whispers so I was fully compliant.

"What's up, Espen?"

"I have to poop."

"Ok, let's go in the private changing area right by Mathis and Jackie and then we can pop back out."

He hung back for a moment, not wanting to commit. This is odd behavior especially since Espen normally loves to announce The Impending Arrival of Poop at at full voice in any venue.

I jiggled his hand a bit and coaxed him into the bathroom.
"What is it buddy? Are you too excited to poop? Don't want to spend the time in here when the pool is beckoning?"

He sat there on the toilet, looking at me until he felt the Event Approaching. Waved frantically at me.

"Get out of here, mamma!"

"Boo, I need to be in here in case you need something."

Shrieks.

"NO GET OUT OF HERE THIS MINUTE!"

I turned around and stared at the wall instead of my apopleptic offspring.

Silence reigned.

I peeked over my shoulder. "All done?"

He nodded as he slid off the seat and allowed me to perform some hygienic procedures on his rump.
Washed his little paws.
And then looked at me very deeply and motioned me forward.
Again, Espen and covertness have never been bedfellows.
I leaned in.

"Mamma, DON'T tell Jackie."

"What?"

"DON'T tell Jackie I pooped."

His face was dead serious. Somewhere between that moment and all those before it, Espen decided that pooping was not a thing to be talking about with people he admires.

We were seconds away from verbal interface with Jackie and Mathis, so I acted quick.

"Sure Wesp, I'll keep it quiet."

He looked at me again to be sure I wasn't kidding and then nodded and proceeded to behave as if nothing poop related had occurred in the bathroom.

Nothing to see here folks, nothing at all. Just your normal 3 year old sense of modesty or coolness or who knows what exactly, but I had my marching orders.

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.