Pissing Flower Beds

Seated at the child sized lunch table at our Qatari school, our international contingent of teachers sat comparing child rearing experiences.

“My first slept through the night so quickly. She was so easy.”

This teacher was from a town perched in central eastern England. Next to me, a Canadian of Argentine heritage. Myself, a Texan. English provided a natural connection for the different corners of the world.

She continued on about her second child.

“He was different. He never slept. You know how it is. Each night, pissing flower beds.”

In my mind, I thought, “Say what? Pissing flower beds?”

Out loud I quizzically asked, “Pissing flower beds?”

“Oh yeah, Every night, pissing flower beds.”

Hmmm. I still didn’t get it and the look on the Argentine Canadian’s face showed he didn’t either. Maybe it was a colloquial English expression, but it definitely didn’t register.

“Who pissed the flower beds?”

“I did, of course.”

Yes, of course you pissed flower beds holding your infant child. That would be New Mexican child rearing.

Utterly confused, “you pissed, peed, in the flower beds?”

Even her English articulation, I still heard “No, I P-I-S-S-E-D.”

“What does that mean?”

“I walked back and forth.” I can only imagine she thought I was a daft as a politician.

“Oh, you paced!” Having figured out the first word, I still didn’t have the entire expression. “But what did you pace?”

In her best, overly articulated American accent, “I pissed the floor boards.”

“Oh, you ‘paced the floor boards’ and didn’t piss on flower beds. I get it now.”

That’s part of fun and comedy of shared languages.

On the other hand, she hasn’t spoken to me since that lunch.