Confession #2.

I once peed on my son.

Don't look at me like that. It wasn't on purpose, exactly. Well, at least not initially. And let's face it, the kid has peed on me more times than I can count. So let's just call us even (though he still owes me big time for all the poop and vomit I've had to endure these past few years).

We were traveling, just the two of us, and I had to make a restroom run. The only toilets available at this particular airport were the squatty potty variety, very popular in Eastern Europe and Asia. If you've ever used one, you know exactly what I mean. The groan when you see it. The knowledge that it's finding a way to successfully bend down or go find an empty bottle somewhere. And if you haven't ever come into contact with one, if you are that lucky, just take a deep breath and be ever so grateful that you haven't crossed paths (though if you really want to see one, click here).

The bathroom was filthy. But when you have to go, you have to go. But what do you do with a newly walking toddler? I mean, there's absolutely nothing in the manual about squatty potties and toddlers. Seriously. I checked. And I doubted that leaving the boy outside of the stall was really the way to go either.

So with no other option available, I squat, knowing that my son will probably come over and visit, getting in the way of my urine stream. I mean, it's a given that he's going to be a little freaked out by the complete and utter nastiness of the place. And with me squatting down, almost just as I do when I'm opening my arms up to hold him close or pick him up, he was going to come calling. And, indeed, that's exactly what happened.

I tried to figure out a way to keep him at bay. I did. But when I tried the Heisman move, I realized that my lack of balance in the position would only result in me peeing on both of us. I had a change of clothes for him (two, in fact, given his reputation for diaper leakage). I didn't have one for me. Lack of foresight, I know.

He didn't mind so much. It only really dampened one of his pant legs. But I still felt like the worst mother ever. I mean, what kind of Mom urinates on her only child?

So, yeah, it happened once. I'm learning to deal with my shortcomings. And honestly, I figure that with all the other stuff that comes with CPT Dick and I parenting, this is going to be way down on the list of things he'll have to discuss with his therapist.