2008 Olympic Summer Games...I can relate

As we all know, the opening ceremony to the Beijing Summer Games was amazing and the world was in awe. But the magic turned to shock in the days to follow as we all learned of the deplorable conditions of the participants. The whole "not cute enough to be seen" child vocalist, only two meals in a 48 hour period, having to stand for hours, 22 hour straight rehearsals going through the night and the most shocking...NO BATHROOM BREAKS. Apparently the Chinese couldn't waste time with human bodily function so they issued adult diapers as a solution to forcing the performers crap themselves, which would stain their expensive costumes, costing the chinese government a fortune on cleaning costs.

Was this action of refusing bathroom privileges impinging the performers' human rights? That I cannot say, but I can tell you that experiencing that feels like you have no human rights. I say "it feels" because this is one issue I can empathize with...

I was five years old. My family was traveling the 1200 miles to visit my grandparents in Missouri for a family reunion. Back in those days, we would put the center seat down in our red Suburban and all five kids would lounge around with no seat belts on, watching movies on the 13" TV we'd strapped down with bungee cables as we fought and argued our way across the plains.

My Dad was like many men on road trips, eager to make good time and break the last trip's record. So when I piped up that we needed to stop for a bathroom break I was told I had to wait until someone else needed to go too. Luckily for me, my older sister, Heather also joined in that she needed to tinkle. Parental backfire.

What happened next, let me preface by my current sympathy to the parents that dare stop on a road trip. From our trips we've taken our nieces and nephews, it seems before you shift to "park" they are already in the gas station, knocking over displays (wait that was me last month), playing arcade games, spilling their fountain drinks...30 minutes later you're rounding them up to get back on the road. I guess with kids there is rarely a quick pit stop. Nevertheless, I don't expect small children to be denied the right of a toilet to meet their bladder's needs.

So back to 1990. My Dad was really irritated with his two little daughters demanding bathroom privileges when he was making great time. We were in the very back seat. I was looking out the window grateful that Heather's bladder and my bladder were in synchronization so we could stop the next chance available. Ahead was an exit, I focused on it like an oasis in the desert, expecting to be able to relieve myself soon. As the Suburban sped by my bathroom opportunity I wondered if Dad forgot. All the sudden something soft and plastic hit me, tossed back by my Dad. "Jess and Heather--just pee in those diapers."

WHAT?? Luckily for my Dad, and unlucky for me, the youngest in our family, Herschel was still in diapers. "I can't pee in a diaper Dad. Please just stop!" I pled, warily unfolding the plastic. My Mom encouraged: "Come on Scott. Just pull over and let them pee." It seemed by this time Heather was already folding her urine-filled diaper up in the chubby triangle shape and securing it shut with the sticky tabs. She passed it up to the other siblings, who were obviously not eager to handle the pee diaper, so then the game of "hot potato Heather's pee diaper" ensued until Mom's athleticism saved the day by her catching the flying pee diaper. I remember my Dad laughing and everyone discussing the weight of her diaper and how much urine could a diaper really hold.

In the mean time, little Jessica was in the back almost in tears from her awful situation. I started whimpering: "Dad please stop I can't do it!" By now everyone else in the car was annoyed and my older brother shouted: "Jessica just pee in the diaper and get it over with!" My Dad: "Come on Jess. Heather can do it...so can you." Heather: "Jess it's easy. You just sit on the diaper and whizz." Silent tears squeezed out my eyes as I tried to maneuver the diaper into my pastel pink sweat bottoms, all the while all my family around me telling me to just whizz away. My brother tried to rationalize: "Jess. At least you get to pee sitting down like you're used to. Dad makes me pee in the Gatorade bottles when boys are used to peeing standing up...so I have it worse than you. Just pretend that diaper is a toilet." It seemed only my Mom was on my side.

I sat on that diaper for what seemed to my bulging bladder miles and miles, crying first but gradually building to full bawling.

I was a shy little kid and I would have a problem whizzing in front of everyone in the car, but being the center of attention made it impossible. Finally my Mom demanded: "Scott you are stopping this car so she can go pee." Finally giving in, my Dad suggested: "OK, we'll stop up here on the side of the road." My bawling advanced to wailing--"I can't pee on the side of the road Dad! [sob, sob, sob] I'm not a boy!" So we finally stopped at a rest stop. My Mom went with me while the rest of the family stayed in the car...I guess because everyone peed already in their diaper or Gatorade jug.

By the time I finally had a chance to sit on a toilet, I'd held it so long I couldn't pee. So I just sat there crying for a while longer in pain while my Mom tried to settle me down.

Eventually my little body was able to relieve itself and I felt much better.

I got in the car and everyone started to make fun of me for being the little princess that just had to have a toilet in order to go pee. I was such a high maintenance five year old, not willing (or able in my circumstance) to urinate in a moving vehicle into a diaper with Man From Snowy River blaring in my ear and my brother's stinky feet in my face. So sorry to make that trip full of family fun 10 minutes longer.

So...ya. I know how bad it must have been for all those Chinese people having to wear diapers when they knew tons of bathrooms were a walking distance away. I think my Dad would fit right in as a Chinese diplomat. And, honestly, it could have been worse. I have a friend who's dad would take a camping port-a-potty in their van for everyone to use. She said when anyone had to go #2 they would hear it from the whole family the rest of the trip. So at least my Dad would allow toilets for bowel movements I guess.

Update: session II

Some pictures of Delta. This first picture is RJ with Dallin, who just turned 16. He's the oldest nephew and adopted RJ as: "the little brother I never had". All the neices and nephews mauled RJ pretty much the entire time we were there, but for the most part he enjoyed the extra love...or just slept through it.

"THE RES"

If you go to Delta, sooner or later you will probably experience "The Res" officially known as Gunnison Bend Reservoir. We went to swim on the shore. When we mentioned going that day all the kids got excited about "the Res mud". All the occasions I've spent at the Res I never learned of the mud. If you swim out far enough and dive down, the mud is smooth, stinky, gray and to these kids--pretty awesome. I swam out and brought some back to the girls...squishing it in our hands led to wiping in on our arms which led to smearing it everywhere else. I continued participating in this sewer version of a day at the spa, by letting the sulfuric smelling mud dry, walking to the dock, finishing by all of us running and jumping off squealing in the air. I swam to the surface, trying to wipe the mud remnants off and I noticed two young bikini hotties on the beach watching us. Then I realized what that whole thing must have looked like to a bystander. I think at this point in my life I'm beyond embarrassment...it actually did me good to act like I was also 9 years old that day.

NIGHT GAMES

What is one of the joys of summer for a little kid living in a small, desert, isolated town? Play night games until 1 a.m. We went through many popsicles and received many mosquito bites, but it was fun. We were playing POISON, a game that basically combines basketball, P-I-G, and dodge ball. Usually when someone receives the maximum three "poisons" they are out of the game and mosey around waiting for everyone else to get out. This time we played Rhett instituted the "loser pool". When you lost, you had to sit in the dry swimming pool the rest of the game, so when it ended we didn't waste time running all through and around the house trying to find the rest of the kids that lost early on and got bored. Here we are, the first three losers in the loser pool...the good, the bad, and the ugly (last two titles are reversed in the picture)

Update: session I

So much has happened this last month. We moved from the midwest. Two days in the car alone with a three-month old trekking 1200 miles went relatively well. We got home a day earlier than my family expected. This is my Mom when she opened the door to see me and RJ standing there when 30 minutes earlier I'd lied and told her we were in North Platte, NE.

It is great to be back in the desert!! This was the first time any of our family (other than my mom and Lynette) had ever seen RJ other than the webcam, so we had been looking forward to it.

We headed down to Delta to see the other side of the family and all the nieces and nephews greeted us with this sign, confetti, and silly string. They had already determined a line up of who's turn it was to hold RJ. It was really sweet when Rhett's mom saw/ held RJ for the first time, she's been having a hard time not seeing him until he was three months old.

We had a lot of fun playing with the kids and breaking up the "MY TURN TO HOLD RJ" fights. We baked with the little girls and taught them to crochet. We played a lot of night games, as shown here with the dog pile and the little boys with towels hanging out the back of their pants for flag football.

Willow!

For those fortunate to be born in the 1980s, you probably enjoyed one of the great fantasy films of all time as a child...Willow.

Last night Rhett and I introduced this great film to our nieces and nephews. After, we were interested in finding more about Willow...you can now reap the benefits of our research.

WHO IS WILLOW?

Name: Warwick Davis

Age: Born Feb 3, 1970

Family: Wife, 2 kids

HOW OLD WAS WARWICK WHEN HE FILMED WILLOW? 17 years old

WHAT GOT WARWICK'S START IN FILMS? He was Wicket the Ewok at age 11

WHAT HAS WARWICK FILMED RECENTLY? Multiple roles in the Harry Potter movies.

WILL THERE BE A WILLOW 2? Warwick hasn't heard anything yet, but we can only hope and pray George Lucas will have time

The last treat, Warwick has his own website: http://www.warwickdavis.co.uk/