Thirsty Grass: A Thing of the Past

After a long five hour drive on Friday, we made it back safely.

I always feel such a sadness to leave my family, but I love the feeling of opening the front door and knowing that we are indeed home. Park usually runs around reacquainting himself with his favorite toys while Chris and I unload suitcases and reminisce about our time away. There is just something very calming about sleeping in your own bed, with all the comforts of the familiar surrounding you.

And now I'm going to abruptly shatter any serenity the above description may have conjured up by switching gears into something far less beautiful.

Urination.

Judging from the amount of times we stopped for Park's roadside relief, I pity any mommies of recently potty trained girls who frequently take trips on long country roads. "Don't worry, sweetie, there is a bathroom just 20 miles ahead" just doesn't cut it when your tiny bladder is telling you NOW. I had never realized how efficient Park's knack for outdoor bathroom usages would become.

However, I was not so pleased to see him attempt a repeat performance on the grass in front of our church Saturday night. And if you are not completely cringing for me yet, might I add that services had just let out.

What an opportune moment to be spotted by someone wanting to introduce a friend to the wife of their high school student's pastor.

Hi, it is so nice to meet you. This is your first time at our church? Well, we are so glad you are here. Yes, my husband is the Sr. High pastor. Oh, and let me introduce you to our son. Um..... he would be the one attempting to water the grass. PARK RYLAND! (Nothing says welcome better than freshly fertilized grass, right?) Please excuse me, will you?

Maybe those mommies of recently potty trained girls should pity me instead.