Friday, May 22, 2009


I was really feeling the pain so I screwed up the courage and tapped the girl on the shoulder in front of me to asked what one did when they had to go potty.

With a superior air she said," You raise your hand and ask the teacher if you can go to the basement. Then you can leave the classroom to go to the bathroom." Clearly a kindergarten graduate.

I was thrilled that "basement" replaced the word "tee-tee" so up shot my hand and I was given permission to leave the class room. Ah --except-- I didn't know where the basement was. I walked out into the hall way and I was all alone in the quiet. Up and down the many hall ways I walked but all I saw were half open doors to other class rooms.

She had said basement, so when I saw stairs leading down, I took them. Down into the bowels of the school I went. Some how I ended up in the boiler room with pipes, dust and huge machinery. I was almost ready to squat behind a boiler but decided to keep looking. I did have a little couth though it was running out. A tall man in coveralls came into the room as I started to leave. He almost startled the pee out out me.

"What are you doing here." he asked.

"Nothing ", I muttered into my chest. I wasn't about to tell a strange man of my problem so I scooted past him back up the stairs.

I had not cried when I first got to school but I was thinking about it now. What was I to do? I had been gone quite a while when I finally found my way back to my room. I entered the only place I recognized and slid back into my seat with a severely stressed bladder. All of a sudden, it dawned on me, school stunk. This was torture.

"Ok children," the teacher announced," it is nap time."

With that, all the kids put their heads down on their desks and closed their eyes. The teacher then left the room, probably to go to that darned basement ,where ever it was.

I was in pain now and could wait no longer. I took advantage of the heads down. Carefully, I arranged my new dress around me so it over lapped the seat like a small flowered tent. Then I let it go. Fortunately or maybe not, the seats had indentations for our tiny butts, and I filled them up with warm pee. Nothing spilled over but I was miserable. The rest of the day I sat soaking in my own pee. Some how the glamor of learning tanked.

When the day finally ended and the rest of the kids had left the room, I slid carefully out of my seat to find, there was still a bit of a puddle left. I prayed it would dry by tomorrow.

My brother was waiting to walk me home and I let him prattle on about his day. I couldn't think of anything about my day I wanted anyone to know. I couldn't wait to get home and get out of my wet underwear.

Mother was confused by my quietness and sudden need for a bath. I had the normal child aversion to water so that was unusual. The most anyone could get out of me through out supper was an head down "OK."

My brothers carried the conversation ball with their adventures. Mother got me alone when it was time to tuck me and then the tear dam burst. It had almost the force of the pee hitting the chair. When I calmed down, she promised to go to school with me tomorrow and straighten out the bathroom situation. I was so relieved. school might not be a bad thing after all if I could just concentrate.

Then as my tears were drying, I traced my name on her arm to show how much I had learned. She was so impressed and I thought ---school might really be fun.

It was years later that my mother told me that she was actually thrilled that night to see my tears. She had been feeling so shut out by my eagerness for school and was just glad to be allowed to be a Mom again.

The next day I found out if I had just turned right going out the class room door instead of left, I would not have had a post today. Go figure.


  1. That was quite a memorable first-day, patti. On my first day at kindergarten, I was miserable. It was the first time my twin brother and I were separated. I cried. The teacher opened the door in my classroom, and Michael's teacher opened the door to his, so I could see him. That made me feel much better.

  2. Oh how I love reading your stories, Patti. I enjoyed part 1 and 2.... Part 2 was the funniest due to the bathroom problem... What a cute story.

    I remember when I went to church camp and left my parents for the first time overnight--at age 8... I loved camp --but Mom/Dad were so worried that I would be homesick that they came to visit me during the week..

    When they got there, I broke their heart by saying, "What are you doing here?" I didn't realize that they needed me to need them as much as they needed me...


  3. robin,
    How awful that they would separate twins in the first place but your got to admire the teachers who improvised. That was really special of them. Hope that was the only time.


    Thank you, glad you liked it.Can so relate to your camp srory. Probably the most painful child for parents to raise is an independant one. The criers and clingers are so much more thoughtful of their parents feelings.

  4. First days are hard. I remember my first date day and my first day in school in many different schools as my mom moved around a lot. I also remember my first kiss. Boy what a surprise disappointment that was.

  5. Abe,
    We moved a lot also so there were a lot of first days here also.
    Thaf first kiss sounds like you ought to do a post on it.
    I have one planned on the same subject for later. Those were always memorable events, good or not so good.

  6. Sometimes moms need to see those tears. I remember once my mom needing to see me cry, sometimes I think she mistook my normal face as me being sad. But that was a long time ago. Time flies.

  7. Patti, that must have made quite an impression on you. I don't remember my first days in grade school, except that a little boy kissed me in the coatroom!

  8. Robert,
    You bet. Tears reinforce why Moms are needed. One of the most important roles of a Mom is that of comforter and no one is better.

    Why you little sex pot you. How cute. Was it mutual or were you mugged? I didn't get mugged till the 4th grade. That is for another day.