The healing power of pee

Every Friday is Movie Night at Nancy and Jim’s house…the one with the five children in it. On Movie Night, the children select from three movies. They do this by vote. Simple majority wins, and the one-year old doesn’t get a vote. At intermission, Nancy brings up brownies or popcorn. I prefer the popcorn because a brownie with gin and tonic just doesn’t do it for me.

I love Movie Night. I don’t have a standing invitation, so I try to wrangle one as often as possible. Movie Night takes place in the upstairs play room is which under the eaves. It has no exterior light and is like a large cave. (It’s a great kid's house.)

There is no seating in the play room, so they just sprawl about on the floor or fight over the tacky, really tacky, kid’s recliner with red upholstery. I bought it when their mother was busy having a baby and wasn’t paying much attention to me. Hey, when opportunity knocks...

Last week I brought the preapproved movie which meant no election, no losers, no vote recount, and no squabbles to mediate. When Grammy comes to Movie Night it’s win-win for everyone. I garner lots of points from all quarters. I have no shame. None.

When I get there, Bru and Hazel meet me at the door shouting, "We made you a nest for Movie Night." This is the result of the last Movie Night I attended. I sat on the floor because I don’t fit in the red recliner. At home I sit on the floor a lot, but I move about. I sat on the playroom floor for an hour and twenty minutes transfixed by Despicable Me. Getting up, I found myself paralyzed from the neck down.

I’m certain their mother and father told them to make sure Grammy doesn’t paralyze herself up there again. It’s understandable. Clearly they would prefer not to have their ninety minute opportunity for adult conversation interrupted by a fire truck extracting me through an upstairs window.

The toddler doesn’t attend Movie Night because she pushes all the control buttons and pulls the plugs from the outlets. The four older children and I head up the stairs. When I saw the play room it took real effort not to burst into tears. Not only had they made a nest for me, complete with a purple unicorn Pillow Pet, they had made nests for themselves, two on each side.

We all get snuggled in with a great deal of thrashing about, tugging of covers and establishing boundaries. JD flips on the movie, How to Tame Your Dragon. Gradually, I begin to recognize the faint familiar odor of kid-pee. You get into a nest made from kids' bedding; pee odor is inevitable.

Laying there with a four-year old’s head on my chest and a six-year old boy's leg slung over mine, snuggled up my pee-smelling nest, with a gin and tonic in a faded plastic cup, smelling hot popcorn coming up the stairs, I can feel everything that’s wrong, and hurt, and broken inside of me being put right.

The movie wasn’t bad either.