Peeing Alone


I had you at the title of this post didn’t I?

I have a confession to make. For six years now, I have been bluffing my way through anecdotes with fellow parents. That parent who hasn’t peed alone in years, yeah, that’s not me. I’ve never had kids that wanted to come to the bathroom with me. Except for the occasional baby in a bumbo, I have peed alone, showered alone, shaved alone, bathed alone, ever since I became a parent.

So I have nodded and laughed along, every time someone laments not being able to pee alone. I have smiled the smile, and aha’d my way through countless parenting moments around this particular anecdote.

I apologize my friends, it’s just easier than saying “Yeah my kid doesn’t do that.” I also should apologize if I’ve ever nodded along to your sleep problems, because until the last few months, all my kids slept through the night from 3 or 4 months old.

So it’s easier for me to nod and agree, than be the parent whose kids let them both sleep and pee.

Charlie GoatBut just recently. My little C. My darling middle child, who was supposed to be my last baby. My precious little four year old with the head of blond hair and the bright blue eyes. Has decided that for much of the time he wants to be with me. And he says that. He takes hold of part of me with his little hands, my hand, my skirt, my face, looks into my eyes and says “But mummy, I want to be with you.”

And I melt like butter.

So occasionally he does come with me while I pee, he sits on the tub like I do when he pees. He laughs a little to himself. And then he leaves with me.

Just the other day though, he didn’t want me to take my shower. I have gotten around that in the past by having him sit on the window seat outside our bathroom, with a pile of books. I leave the door open, and he reads and talks to me while I shower. This time that wouldn’t suffice, so he grabbed his pile of Mr. Men books, came in the bathroom, piled them on the toilet seat, and sat next to it, reading while I showered. I won’t lie and pretend that the toilet had been cleaned recently, it hadn’t.

But I came to an understanding in my soul that morning. Because I don’t hate it when he wants to come with me to the bathroom, to read to me while I shower. I don’t hate the lack of privacy. I love that he loves me that much, and I love being near him.


And here’s where I take this fine line I’ve been walking between sweet and gross, because that’s how much God loves us. He wants to come to us in our sin like a child wants to come to you while you are pooping. He doesn’t care that you are pooping, he knows you are pooping, he knows you will poop again, he just wants to be with you.

C doesn’t care what I’m doing, he knows, but it doesn’t faze him, he takes it all in his stride. C doesn’t care whether I am peeing, or pooping or in the shower, he just doesn’t want to lose a second of my time, and he would rather be with me in that bathroom than anywhere else without me.

Now I’m sure he’d rather be playing Lego with me, or reading, or running around outside, but he comes to me where I am and meets me there.

God doesn’t require that we be perfect before we come to him. He doesn’t require that we have everything in order, that our circumstance are all ordered. He doesn’t need us to prep ourselves. In fact, he wants to come to us right where we are, in our sin, in our mess, in our everyday, ordinary things. He wants to be with us in everything and not just in the picture perfect moments.

When I hear C reading his books the other side of the shower curtain, I am filled with such joy, and I am reminded that God loves me with the same love that C does.



In everything.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s