Archive | June, 2017

Drug Test

1 Jun

The Drug Test – which has nothing to do with the previous post. Am not giving self drug tests to ensure I stay on the straight and narrow re health and diet. Am not testing self for carbs and wine – would be futile after all.

And that’s all I have to say regarding the previous post.

No, the Drug Test is the annual school urine test that all students are required to do. Tis some part of Japan’s marvelous attitude towards preventative healthcare. Find out if a child is on the road to obesity before they turn into an obese adult and have to leech the healthcare system for millions of yen. Have absolutely no complaint about the test being administered.

BUT,  of course I conveniently forget about what a fuckin pee splashing, hand wiping pain in the ass it is every other day of the year – until they bring home ‘the cup’ and I am reminded that THIS is why toilets have walls. To stop pee from boys trying to pee into a cup splashing out into the hallway.

Haha, except this year it was ME splashing the boys’ pee into the hall. Bloody hell almighty, pour me wine.

Or vodka. Pee on walls, face and hands should probably end in vodka.

The pee has to be pee-ed into the cup in the morning. I always get it mixed up with bum-patch worm test that HAS to be done first thing after waking up BEFORE going to the loo. Bend over, press worm test patch to bum-holey-o and then let child go wee. This was an annual kindergarten ritual, that I haven’t had to do for a few years now. I remember one year I forgot to hand it in and took it, in its special little envelope, to the funeral of an ex-kindergarten teacher that afternoon – and gave it to one of the teachers there. Jeeze. Black funeral attire, pearls, one kid at the kinder, one in the pram and quite possible one in the belly, handing over an envelope with a patch I had, only a few hours earlier, pressed to my son’s butt…. … Sometimes I just outdo myself. Tis tiring.

Anyhoo, the pee test probably didn’t need to be the first pee of the rising sun. Especially not any pee before 6am. But, as I had got my patch and pee test information all up the fuck in my head I told the kids it HAD to be the first pee after waking up and that because I didn’t want pee on the floor, and because mummy knew how hard it was peeing into a cup, to PLEASE WAKE ME UP when they got up and needed to pee.

Fuckin idiot.

Marina woke up at thirteen minutes past five. As I am, quite obviously, not a rice harvesting 85 year old, my internal clock is ‘usually’ still blissfully asleep at this time.

Now, pregnant women in Japan go to the doctors every month, and then every week for the last month. Must pee in cup EVERY time. Obviously it gets harder to hold the cup under the saloon doors the bigger your tummy gets with growing spawn of devil child. But after three kids I had it mastered and was about to impart my eternal wisdom onto my only daughter when she proficiently thrust the cup out the loo door and said ‘done’.

Of course they don’t just wander off to school with a cup full of pee. That would be TOO easy. No, it must now be sucked up into a plastic tube/pipe thingy. A pee pulling plastic pipe, if you will. Not quite as hard as saying ‘Sally sells sea shells on the sea shore’ but give it a try anyway.


Did you actually really say it? Well, did you? Don’t worry. I think you’re totally normal.

So Marina’s pee pulling plastic pipe gets put into her bag with her year and number on it. Can’t have names on it – must not connect the face to the pee.

I wonder if I could squeeze in 20 minutes more of slumber – just as Ryu comes down the stairs. I swear he is still asleep so why the fuck he can’t just stay in bed another half hour I don’t know. And how we have managed to make it to ten years without a child falling down our stairs will just have to remain one of the world’s three mysteries.

Ryu, the golden child.

Perhaps a more fitting name now.

I hand him the cup and tell him he doesn’t need to fill it to over flowing. Just up to about ‘here’ would be fine. I ask if he needs assistance in making sure his penis (because seriously, the whole thing was so traumatic I don’t have the mental energy to think of a cute name like willy willy wonker boy or chin chin Mc-chin chin)  fires a direct line into the cup. He informs me that he will be 8 in a few days and is thus quite capable of performing the task on his own.

About a minute later he calls me. I go in and see the cup on the ledge beside the toilet and him trying to navigate holding his chin chin Mc-chin chin and wondering how to grab the cup. I PRESUME (I don’t know, call it a mother’s intuition) that because he is asking how he should grab the cup at the same time as releasing his pee that, stupid me, the cup on the ledge is EMPTY. This would make sense.

So I grab the cup. With far too much enthusiasm.

Turns out the boy had completed the task perfectly and had the EXACT right amount of pee in the cup – which half a second later was on my face, in his hair and, well, pretty much everywhere else. Except the fuckin cup.

I was stunned. How did we get to this?

Quite calm, given the circumstances, I ACTUALLY open my mouth (peh, peh, spew – I mean six month old boy baby wee suddenly hitting you during a nappy change I can handle but 7 year old almost an adult wee is just harder to stomach ya know) and ask him to squeeze a few more ml into the cup.

He obliges.

I direct him to the shower, wash my mouth out, wipe my face, wipe down the toilet walls an away we go smiling. Like it never happened.

Quite traumatized by the golden boy child and I having a complete mozza I was anxious when Shou woke up and needed to go.

Thankfully he was grand.

The moral of the story?

Girls will only get a bit of pee on their hands when peeing into a cup so let them do it alone. Boys? 10, possible 9 – that’s about the safe zone, cross over, you might or you might not completely re-decorate the toilet.  But before then – full supervision.

But check the fuckin cup.

And for christ sake, don’t say I didn’t warn you.