Growing up as the oldest daughter in a family of sisters, I was not prepared for some of the surprises that come with raising a brood full of boy children. Like their preternatural fascination with gas—the kind produced by eating beans and broccoli. Or their early obsession with the length of their nether bits.
But of all the surprises with which they have gifted me, perhaps the most surprising has been the pee. Ironically, the only time I ever envied boys was when we were miles from a toilet and mother nature was calling.
For example, while driving around on the ranch, and being 30 minutes from camp. My male friends and family members would just step to the back of the truck and let her rip. Not so for us girls….Less accessible anatomy means greater exposure—and therefore the need for greater privacy. This means a hike through the brush to find privacy enough that we don’t moon the boys waiting back at the truck. This isn’t as easy as it seems, because they are TRYING to get mooned.
And on a long stretch of busy highway? Fuggetaboutit.
So as much as I envied the boys this ability in my youth, it has often lead to much frustration, hilarity and bleach as a parent. You see, not only CAN boys answer nature’s call outdoors when they have to, they DO answer it outdoors even when there are perfectly acceptable toilet facilities nearby.
Once, when my youngest (it’s always the youngest, isn’t it??) was about 4, we were at his brother’s T-ball game. He disappeared for a moment, and terror-struck as we turned and found him. He had walked past the restrooms, and was standing in the middle of the main breezeway, hundreds of people all around, with his britches down around his ankles. His father was impressed at the 5 foot arch he had achieved. I was in a fetal position under the bleachers sucking my thumb.
Not too long after that, we were spending the weekend hunting. The hunting truck needed gas, so we drove it into town when we went for breakfast. For the uninitiated, a hunting truck has a metal cage built on top, about ten feet off the ground, with 4 chairs on it. This mechanism is used for spotting wildlife from a higher vantage point while driving the ranch. It can also be used as a mobile blind, from which hunters may hunt. So anyway, as we are standing in line at the taco stand, which is on the side of a state highway in this small south Texas town, when we see that a small group of people across the highway have assembled. They are all laughing and pointing to our side of the highway, in fact, they are pointing to our truck. To the top of our hunting rack, where a sweet cherub faced little boy has scaled the ladder, dropped trou, and is trying to beat his 5 foot arch record. Onto the highway below. In front of, and possibly onto, passing motorists. So apparently hunting trucks have additional uses for which I was unaware.
In Kindergarten the same year, a recess had to be missed by a certain someone because he had chosen to scribe his name on the bathroom wall, and had to glove up and help the teacher wash the wall with bleach. Did I mention he had no writing implements with which to write his name? Pee is quite an art form apparently.
When he was in the backyard playing one day, he came in the back door, walked right past me in the kitchen, and past the guest bath, and out the front door. He must have thrown his ball over the fence. I went and looked out the front window, only to find him watering the flowers around the mailbox. You know, next to the street. Where people were walking. No, he wasn’t using a hose to water the flowers.
I grew concerned after I found he had also watered the inside of one of my flower vases, and some small trash cans. I asked the pediatrician if I should expect a lifetime spent visiting the child in some sort of facility. “No,” he assured me “this kind of thing is very common with boys of that age. They have that thing sticking out there, tempting them all the time to see what all they can do with it.”
Lawdy Mercy. He wasn’t kidding.
And don’t even get me started again on how old they have to be before they start hitting the toilet. I mean the water in the toilet. They seem to have no problem hitting the seat. Would it be weird if I kept a cup of Cheerios in the bathroom, and asked my 20-year-old and 15-year-old to toss one in and aim for it?
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I eat my peas with honey.
I’ve done it all my life.
It makes the peas taste funny
But it keeps them on my knife.
At the Catholic school I attended, most people did not like to eat their peas. The nuns would tell us that peas would make our hair curly, and I did want curly hair, but I loved peas anyway. The kids that didn’t used to try to cleverly hide their peas, because the nuns made us clean our plates. Kids started stuffing the food they didn’t like I into their empty milk containers, until the nuns got wise to it–then they would pick up our cartons and shake them before we were allowed to throw them away. Since we didn’t have to eat our rolls, some kids would hollow out the middle of their rolls and put their peas inside. My friend Yvonne stuffed some up her nose onetime. That didn’t work out so well, of course, and she wound up in the emergency room with some guy sticking forceps up her nose, and then a nasty sinus infection.
But not me. I like them creamed, buttered, roasted, and fried. In salads, and soups, and all alone.
Here are some of my favorite ways to enjoy them…
Peas With Prosciutto
Peas and Prosciutto
serves 4
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 4 oz prosciutto, cubed
- 1 large shallot, minced
- 1 10 oz bag frozen green peas, thawed
- ½ teaspoon salt
- ½ teaspoon pepper
- 2 oz freshly grated parmesan cheese
Place the oil in a large skillet over medium high heat. Add prosciutto and shallots, and cook for a few minutes until the shallots are translucent. Add the peas, and cook for a few minutes, stirring occasionally, until heated through. Salt and pepper to taste. Serve topped with shredded parmesan cheese. Serve as a delicious side dish, or in the soup below.
Two Pea Soup
Two Pea Soup
serves 4
- 8 cups chicken broth
- 2 pounds smoked ham hocks, or ham bone
- 2 1/3 cups dried split peas
- 3 cups sliced carrots
- 2 minced shallots
- ½ cup heavy cream
- 1 recipe Peas with Prosciutto (above), optional
- Garnish: rustic toasts, below
Place all of the ingredients, except for the cream, in a stock pot over medium heat. Cover and simmer for 2 hours, stirring occasionally. Remove ham hock or bone, and discard. Stir in cream. Add the peas and prosciutto, or if traditional split soup is desired, omit. Serve warm with crusty bread or croutons.
Plain Ol’ Split Pea Soup, with Rustic Toast
Rustic toasts
- 1 loaf of rustic Italian bread, sliced
- ½ cup olive oil
- ½ cup melted butter
Heat oven to 375*
Mix butter and olive oil in a bowl, and brush on both sides of bread. Lay bread on baking sheet, and bake for 15 minutes on each side, until toasted. Allow to cool and crisp up for 10 minutes.
Texana's Kitchen 
As a boy with five brothers, this article brought back so many fond memories – of the six of us enjoying pea soup, of course.
Of course!!
My dad always used to say that poem about peas and I’ve taught it to my family. And as far as the Cheerios go, they should probably be available in any bathroom frequented by males!
Good…I’m on it.
A few notes on this post. And you will notice, I’m commenting more since you called me out the other day for not reading your blog. I almost always read it, I just hadn’t had a chance to read THAT one yet because i hadn’t been near a computer and don’t read much on my phone. Ok, 1) we must have come from different parents. There’s no way we can be related when I have no problem peeing anywhere I must when nature calls. And I have no problem telling the men folk what I’m doing and to stay away for a few minutes. 2) Either we went to different schools, or the nuns realllllly loosened up by the time I got there. Which was the case, I do believe. But every time you post about them and their strictness, it’s almost alien to me. Except the Irish stuff. And Sr. William Francis’s bell. Lastly, I want to try some cool pea recipes, but I don’t get to because Robby HATES peas. With a fiery passion. As if he were back in Iraq and there was a band of pea insurgents. So now I’m craving something I have no hope of getting. I hope you’re peased. See what I did there?
I think rules about what private schools could and could not do to kids changed. The nuns can’t pull your hair or whack you with a ruler anymore, like they could in the good ol’ days. Also, kids can choose what to buy for lunch now. When I was there, if you bought lunch, there was only one choice–the tray. And I am guessing that someone, somewhere raised a fuss with the nuns for forcing kids to clean their trays, which I agree they shouldn’t–that’s why we have fat kids…..
If Robby hates peas, eat them anyway. Just because you make them doesn’t mean he has to eat them. And maybe if he had them prepared like the peas and prosciutto, he might actually like them….But you can eat them just the same.
this was so funny I peed…
excellent! Did you hit the cheerio?
No, but my dog is pissed at me. Damn pug should have ran faster…
😉
I keep a container of Clorox Wipes by every toilet in my house. My 5 year old is currently honing his arch. My friend’s 7 year old stands in the hallway and tries to hit the toilet from long range. (Missing most of the time) Sometimes I need a hazmat suit just to clean the bathrooms. Great article…with 3 boys,I totally relate.
ahahaha! You DO feel my pain!
I love peas too and my daughters always did from a young age as well. I never called them peas. I would tell the girls we were having those tiny green balls for supper. Growing up with all girls and then having all girls myself, I cannot relate. But you do make me laugh. So thank you for that. My sister, on the other hand, has been blessed with all boys – three in total. I need send her this link!
yes, you just have no idea about pee until you have boys…
I followed it from FB, Stac! All so true. However, I do not like peas 😦
You are not alone in that….
Ah, the efficiency of Facebook! That’s my sister, Christine! ^ And, Marta, I am glad you’ve met Christine now. I love her blog.
Welcome, Marta! And Stacy, you need to make that woman some peas she’ll love! There’s a recipe out there somewhere….
Thank you for lightening up my day!
I just laughed so hard my sides hurt. Thank you so much not only for the funny story and the yummy recipes but also for the memories it brought back of my son and nephews, and the reason my sister moved out of her top floor apartment….lol
Do I want to know why your sister moved out of her top floor apartment? Did passersby need to be carrying umbrellas?
Reblogged this on KBenServices and commented:
I just had to share this blog. I laughed so hard my sides hurt.
I don’t think people who didn’t have boys think it’s as funny! Their loss!
The ladies need a shewee. Google it 🙂
Oh my……..I just want to know where that horn shaped part goes…?! 8)
🙂
Christine, I enjoy your stories. By the way did you know there is a song ,”Writing you name in the snow!” It is of course a “country Song” I can’t think of the singer, but is is funny.
Just remembered the singer to WRITE YOUR NAME IN THE SNOW is CHET ATKINS.
I like him, but I don’t know that song….I’ll be looking it up though!
By the way…I am the one who cleans the toilets at Texana’s Kitchen’s house. I am her husband.
Don’t deny that I am the one honey!
Its the truth….and a good thing because you KNOW I’m not peeing on the seats and floor.
*sob* stopping scaring me!
Come on Kayle….it’s all good. Just think of the stories youll be able to tell.
All that wee and I can’t even get one guy to wee on my compost heap. For the reasons you outline, I won’t be doing it myself 🙂 great pea recipes, peas are hard to beat, thanks, Tracey
Enjoyed your post! Though wouldn’t it more accurately 🙂 be “let him rip?” I suppose a five foot arc is to be admired, and to add to peas…a favorite of mine is making it up like a cross between hummus and pesto for a spread.
I came by to thank you for following my blog and had no idea that you would gift me with such a great laugh. I SO needed it. Forty years after starting my family by birth, adoption, guardianship and fostering I need a gantt chart to tract them all and I still have a 4 year old boy at home. Boys haven’t changed much over the years. Double thanks. 🙂
I simultaneously laughed out loud and got super hungry reading your post – love me some peas! Thanks for a great blog!
I loved, loved, loved this post! I raised 3 sons well 4 if you count their dad and your post made me smile! My 21yr old was potty trained w cheerios! I wonder too if I put a box in the bathroom at least would a visual remind him to hit it instead of letting er fly! Lol
I have two boys of my own and its not uncommon for me to walk into a little puddle of pee in front of my downstairs toilet! I mean seriously, why can’t he pee in the toilet?? Thanks for this enjoyable post!
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It’s like your living my life! HA! I had 3 sisters growing up and it wasn’t an issue! I now have 3 boys of my own, and I was NOT prepared with the fascination of burping, gas, peeing, and every slightly “dirty word” such as fart and poop. My bathroom reeks of pee and no matter how much I scrub it will always be a small reminder of just how small the hole in the toilet must be. Well played, God. Well played…
Get out of my head! Haha….yes, you are feeling my pain…
My son hardly takes time to pull his penis out of his pants, let alone aim. He makes more laundry than anyone else in the house.
I would love that problem! I already do as much laundry as the Holiday Inn, so I could deal with that……getting on my hands and knees to wipe pee off the wood floors, tile, and baseboards…not so much.