Not in my bed of course. Nor in my room. No no, it was Elaine. But of course.
Warren has newspaper this morning, so he got the first wake up. I rounded the bend into Elaine's room and was greeted with the overwhelming aroma of pee soaked sheets. Seven years old, and this still happens on occassion. In her defense, she was deliriously tired from the weekend and a very sound sleeper, but in not her defense (?) - she's a scaredy cat and afraid to get out of bed. Anywho, it was hard to ignore. And of course, pee means I am SO NOT getting into that bed to snuggle with her.
I asked calmly, "um what's going on in here?"
Cue the tears. "I accidentally peed my bed and I thought you would be mad so I didn't come tell you."
Meaning she just slept in it. EWWWWWWWWWWWWW.
I told her to get up and jump in the shower because rolling around in urine does not make for an attractive little girl. I did not yell. I did not shout. I did not ridicule or demean or any of it. When she got out of the shower I told her she needed to hustle - as is the comment every school morning. She burst into tears. "I just hate myself right now," she cried. Ouch. That stings a mother's heart.
I got down to her level. "Look at me Elaine. I don't hate you. I'm not even mad. Mistakes happen, this was a mistake. You cannot hate yourself over peeing in your bed. Got it? I love you and you need to love you."
She nodded through tears.
I hope it sunk in.
Meanwhile, I have laundry to attend to - more than I originally thought.
Happy Monday people!
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