Friday, January 8, 2010

Pee in a Cup

Last week was Primo’s 5 year checkup. Pretty un-eventful – some crying, panicking about potential shots, relief at only getting a TB test, doc says he’s a giant like his Daddy and everything looks good.

Then, at the very end of the visit he told Primo to go pee in a cup.

Primo was totally floored by this.

“Why do I have to do peepee in a cup?”

The doctor explained it was to test his kidneys. Then we proceeded into the bathroom.

Now, like anyone who’s been preggo, I’m familiar with the process of peeing into a cup. Hell, I’m a damn pro.

But peeing into a cup at the OB’s office and helping your 5 year-old pee into a cup at the ped's office are two entirely different things.

To begin with, the OB’s bathroom was clean, fresh-smelling even, with a neat stack of pee cups and a sheet of white stickers on which to write your name.

The ped’s bathroom is an actual pigsty. I don’t think it’s their fault. I mean, if they test the kidneys of every kid 5 and older, just IMAGINE how much pee that equals, being collected and handled by children. In fact, the doctor warned us to put on Primo’s shoes before entering the bathroom because there was no telling how much pee might have landed on the floor from previous patients.

We walk in and spot the stack of cups over the toilet.

“Don’t use those cups Mommy,” Primo warns, pointing to a few standing rightside up on the counter, “Those already have peepee in them.”

In fact, they did. This was a little arresting to me. My OB’s office was civilized enough to collect the urine samples immediately and stash them in some special, out-of-sight sequestered urine collection spot.

There were no label stickers which meant I had to basically carve my son’s name onto the cup, using the pen as a knife.

Then the kid peed in a cup. Real rite of passage I thought. We left the pee with all the other pee and got the hell out of there.

When we arrived at home, my cousin was waiting to baby-sit so I could work.

“Alanna!” announced Primo, “If I have to do peepee, you need to get me a cup.”

“What?” she asked.

“I need a cup to do peepee in,” he explained, “The doctor said so.”

I stifled my guffaw and informed him that he should continue to deposit his pee into the toilet as per usual.

“It was just a one-time thing,” I explained.

He didn’t look too convinced though. Since he turned five, he’s been very skeptical of my expertise on matters like these. Which means one day I am going to enter my bathroom to find a sippy cup full of urine. I just know I will. .