The Star Chart

	The sun was shining brightly through my bedroom window on 
that late September morning. The dog had just landed on my chest 
with her usual good morning greeting. Her wet nose made contact 
with my lips and her tongue went to work washing my face.
	"Get down, Goldy," I shouted. And she complied immediately. 
Goldy was my golden retriever. She had been trained by 
professionals and it was only by accident that we had her. She 
reacted almost instantly to all of my commands. She seated herself 
on the throw rug that was located on the side of my bed. Her tail 
wagged with anticipation. She was waiting for my feet to hit the 
floor before she renewed our good morning ritual.
	I rolled over on my back, stretched and thought about my 
life. Thought about how nice it was to be a teenager. Thought 
about my eighth grade class at Northeast Jr. High School, and I 
thought about my family. My dad, my mom and my sisters. Heather 
was eight and Mary was rapidly approaching three. I thought about 
what I had planned for today when my focus suddenly shifted back 
to the present.
	"Damn." I thought. "Damn. Damn. DAMN." I muttered to no one 
but myself. I had done it again. I had wet the bed. Mom had tried 
many things over the years to help me stop wetting but nothing had 
worked. She tried restricting fluids, had me do bladder-stretching 
exercises, tried raising the foot of the bed, conversely, tried 
raising the headboard. She had also tried getting me up several 
times in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. But still, 
nothing had worked. Mom had even taken me to see several doctors. 
(Which was a hardship on the family because we were so poor and 
didn't have any health insurance) The doctors had told her that 
there was nothing wrong with me physically and that eventually, I 
would outgrow it. They suggested that she just be patient and wait 
it out. The last time mom took me to see a doctor was two years 
ago. I was eleven at the time. She had made an appointment for me 
at a place called the Enuresis Clinic.
	We arrived at the clinic a little early on the day of the 
appointment and were informed that due to a medical emergency the 
doctor had been delayed but that she would be with us shortly. 
Because of the delay, the waiting room was packed with children 
and their mothers. I noticed that I was surrounded by kids that 
were a lot younger than I was. I listened as the mothers talked to 
one another about the "cures" that they had inflicted on their 
children and I listened to them complain about how much work it 
was to have a bedwetter in the house. I also noted the sidewise 
glances that I was getting from some of the mothers and from some 
of the kids as well.
	One of the mothers was having trouble with her son. It was 
apparent that he did not want to be here and that he was on the 
verge of throwing a tantrum. His mother grabbed him by the 
shoulders and turned him around facing me. I heard her whisper to 
him, "Do you still want to be wetting the bed when you're that 
old?" she asked, pointing at me. I know that she didn't mean for 
me to hear the comment, bit I did. And so did everybody else in 
the room.
	The room fell silent and for a moment all eyes were on me. 
The woman who had made the comment looked up at me and we made eye 
contact. I blushed, she followed suit and then we both looked at 
the floor. Mom could tell how embarrassed and hurt I was by the 
comment but said nothing. The woman's son stared at me for a 
moment longer and then quietly sat down. A few seconds later the 
women in the room resumed talking about their "cures." I was still 
staring down at the floor when I felt a little tear crawl across 
my cheek and fall with a splash to the floor.
	Ten minutes later we were called into the exam room. Other 
than the doctor treating me as if I were a five year old, the exam 
was uneventful. The doctor said that she would notify us of the 
results. It was a week later when she finally called. The tests 
showed nothing remarkable. Nothing was physically wrong with me. 
The doctor then told mom that she had, had cases where the child 
was just too lazy to get up and go to the bathroom. It was at this 
point that mom informed me that she would no longer try to cure my 
bedwetting. She also indicated that when I had an accident, it was 
my responsibility to put my wet night clothes and sheets in the 
washing machine to be washed.

Part II

	Over the past two years my bedwetting had decreased 
substantially and I was beginning to hope that it would soon stop 
altogether. For some unknown reason, within the last month my 
incidents of bedwetting had increas4ed. I could tell by mom's 
facial expressions that her patience with me was running out. All 
of this flashed through my mind as I lay there in my wet bed.
	"Wade, time to get up," Mom called. "If you don't get moving 
you'll be late for school," she continued.
	I sprang into action. I jumped from the bed, gave the dog a 
hug, stripped the bed, removed my wet night clothes and dropped 
everything in a pile on the floor. I wiped down the plastic sheet, 
(I hated the plastic sheet. It wasn't really a sheet at all but a 
large piece of plastic that we recovered from a downed weather 
balloon. It was thick plastic and its edges were sharp. I had 
sustained small cuts from it on more than one occasion and the 
creases in the plastic made sleeping on it miserable to 
impossible. I had asked mom for a real rubber sheet but she had 
told me that we could not afford it. Because it was so 
uncomfortable to sleep on, I had removed it from my bed on more 
than one occasion. The result was several large stains in the 
mattress)I ran to the shower.
	After a quick shower I went back to my room, picked up all my 
wet things and headed for the laundry room. (The laundry room was 
in the basement and in order to get there I had to go through the 
kitchen) Mom was in the kitchen standing by the refrigerator 
talking to Mary.
	"Was my big girl dry last night?" She quizzed Mary.
	"Yes, momma," Mary responded.
	Mom then pulled down Mary's rubber pants and checked her 
night diapers. Finding them dry mom said "Hooray! What color star 
would you like today, Mary?"
	Mom held a little dish of stars out in front of Mary and Mary 
picked a gold one. Mom then picked Mary up and together they 
placed the star on the calendar. The date was September 28. Mom 
congratulated Mary again, set her on the floor and said, "Lets go 
get your big girl pants on." Mary ran down the hall and into her 
bedroom.
	Mom looked up at me and said, "Good morning Wade." She then 
followed up with a question. "Isn't this the third time this week 
that you have had an accident?"
	"No mom," I replied. "This is only the second time," I lied. 
Mom looked at me with a questioning look but said nothing. She 
then turned and walked down the hall towards Mary's room. Looking 
over her shoulder she said, "Better get on with your chores." And 
then she continued with a statement that sent shudders up and down 
my spine. "And we'll talk about this later."
	After dinner on the night of September 30th. mom called me 
into the kitchen. She was standing in front of the refrigerator, 
taking down the Star Chart for the month of September and putting 
up a new Star Chart for the month of October.
	"I have decided to chart your bedwetting progress," she 
stated pointing to the Chart. "As you can see, each date for the 
month of October has been divided in half. The top half is for 
Mary and the bottom half is for you. As soon as you get up you are 
to come to the kitchen so that I can see if you are wet or dry. I 
will mark each date with either a "W" for wet or a "D" for dry. At 
the end of the month I will decide if we will continue to monitor 
your problem and determine if some other course of action is 
warranted. Do you understand me, young man?" She lectured.
	Yes." I replied. As I knew that any other response would have 
negative consequences.

Part III

	The following morning Goldy greeted me as usual. The sky was 
cloudy. The leaves on the trees were beginning to change color and 
my bed was wet. I stalled as long as possible but I knew it was 
useless. Down the hall and into the kitchen I walked. Mom and Mary 
were just finishing putting a green star on the chart. Mom took 
one look at me, picked up a black marking pen and put a big "W" in 
the bottom square of the October 1st slot.
	"OK Wade, go shower and get dressed," was all that she had to 
say to me. That is the way it went day in and day out. Some days I 
was wet and some days dry. On October 23rd mom marked another big 
"W" on the calendar, looked at me and said, "Wade, you have been 
wet eleven out of the last twenty-three days. I'm beginning to 
think that the doctor may have been right when she said that you 
are just being lazy. Even your little sister is doing better than 
you are. Please try harder."
	On Saturday the 25th of October I once again woke up wet. 
After her usual greeting, Goldy waited for me to get out of bed. I 
started walking down the hall with Goldy hot on my heals. I was 
about to enter the kitchen when I heard voices. I slowed my walk 
an then stopped to listen. Mom was talking to Kathy. (Kathy was 
the girl who lived next door. We were in the same eighth grade 
class in school. We didn't like each other very much but mom was 
very fond of Kathy) I peeked around the corner. Kathy had Mary in 
her arms and she was telling Mary what a good girl she was for 
staying dry. Mary picked out a blue star and Kathy pasted it in 
the bottom half of the October 25th square.
	"That's not where it goes," Mary protested. "That's Wades 
spot."
	"Wades spot?" Kathy asked looking at my mom.
	Mom hesitated for a moment and then said, "Wade still wets 
the bed." This was one of the few times that mom ever told anyone 
outside the family that I wet the bed. She always tried to keep 
knowledge of my problem within the family. I could feel my cheeks 
go red. I was dying from embarrassment.
	"Really?" Kathy asked with a smirk on her face. "My five year 
old brother Ronnie still wets the bed. My mom makes him wear night 
diapers. Does Wade wear night diapers, too?"
	"No," my mother replied. "Wade hasn't worn a diaper since he 
was three years old."
	I turned around with the intent of going back to my bedroom. 
Heather walked into the hall from her room. "Good morning, Wade." 
She said.
	Mom heard the greeting and called, "Wade, come into the 
kitchen will you?"
	"MOM!" I protested.
	"Right now, Wade," she insisted.
	I knew that any hesitation would be a mistake so I walked 
into the kitchen in my wet pajamas. Goldy was still on my heals. 
Kathy looked at me, saw the wet spot and stifled a giggle. Mom 
looked at me with a disappointed look and turned to Kathy.
	"Would you care to update the Star Chart?" Mom asked Kathy.
	"Sure, Mrs. Johnston. I would be glad to," Kathy said with 
glee. Turning to me, Kathy then said. "Let me see. There seems to 
be an error on the Start Chart. There is a blue star in your 
square and there should be a big "W". Isn't that right Wade?" She 
asked.
	I hesitated and mom interjected, "Answer her, Wade."
	"Ye..ye..ye..yes." I stuttered. With that, Kathy pried the 
star off of the chart with her little fingernail and using a felt 
tip marking pen, marked my square with a big black "W". She then 
commented on how may "W's" I had on the chart and noted that Mary 
was doing better than I was. Kathy then put a new star in Mary's 
square.
	"Now go get showered and dressed for the day," Mom said.
	After my shower, I dressed and gathered up my wet 
nightclothes and sheets and made a beeline for the basement. Mom 
and Kathy were sitting at the kitchen table talking. Kathy stifled 
another giggle as I hurried by. I stopped at the bottom of the 
stairs and listened for a moment.
	"My mom says its a lot less work to keep Ronnie in night 
diapers. Mom also says that as long as Ronnie wets the bed, he 
will be wearing diapers," Kathy said. "Mrs. Johnston, wouldn't it 
be a lot less trouble if you just put Wade back in night diapers?"
	"I considered putting Wade back in diapers in the past but at 
his age I don't think that diapers are an option," Mom responded. 
"Besides, Wade is close to stopping." Mom looked over at the Star 
Chart and sighed. She knew that what she had just said was nothing 
more than wishful thinking.
	Kathy got up and walked toward the door. She turned and said, 
"Goodbye Mrs. Johnston." A second later Kathy stated, "I still 
think that if Wade is going to act like a baby that you should 
treat him like one and put him back in diapers."
	"Thank you, Kathy." Mom said as Kathy closed the door behind 
her.
	"You bitch!" I hissed so that no one could hear. I took my 
load of wet things to the laundry room and then went back to my 
room to ponder what had just happened.

Part IV

	On the 31st of October, at approximately 5:00 PM, I was 
summoned to the kitchen. Mom, Mary, and Heather were there. The 
October Start Chart was being replaced with the November Chart. I 
noticed that the new chart was no longer divided into two squares.
	Mom began. "As you can see, Wade, the dates on the chart are 
no longer divided in half. That is because Mary has now been dry 
for more than two weeks now and I think that she will stay dry 
from now on. Starting tomorrow, there will be no more diapers for 
Mary. She will be wearing big girl panties both day and night."
	Mom and heather congratulated Mary, gave her a hug and told 
her what a big girl she was. Mom also suggested (demanded 
actually) that I congratulate Mary too. (which I did)
	"You are now the sole owner of the Star Chart," Mom stated. 
"The rules for you have not changed. You will present yourself 
here every morning for pants inspection. Don't you feel real proud 
or yourself?" She asked. "And furthermore, young man, you were wet 
sixteen out of thirty-one days in October. That's more than half 
of the time. Please try harder," Mom begged.
	"Because if you can't come to grips with your bedwetting 
problem, then I will," she threatened.
	Today is Saturday, November 15th. My dry bed success ratio 
has remained at a little less than 50%. Mary is doing very well, 
not one accident. Mom is very proud of her. She took what little 
savings we had and bought Mary a new bed. Mary's old crib and 
other baby items have been retired to the garage.
	The plastic sheet (weather balloon) has been driving me 
crazy. It has become stiff and hard. I have had a hard time 
sleeping on it.
	Last night I made a big mistake. I got angry because the 
plastic sheet had cut me again. I removed it from my bed and threw 
it on the floor. I then fell fast asleep and had an accident. This 
morning my mattress had a big wet spot in the middle of it. I 
tried to hide it from mom but she found it anyway. She was angrier 
than I have ever seen her. She had me haul my mattress out to the 
garage. It is leaning against Mary's old crib. I hope it will dry 
quickly.
	I had just finished cleaning up around the yard, keeping as 
much distance between my mom and myself as I could. After putting 
the garden tools back in the garage where they belonged I decided 
to check on my mattress. Just as I was feeling the wet spot, mom 
walked into the garage.
	Mom stared at me with a look that would make grown men quake.
	"Is it dry?" she demanded. I hesitated and was about to 
answer her when Kathy walked into the garage.
	"Hello, Mrs. Johnston," Kathy greeted mom. "My mom wants to 
know if she can borrow a cup of flour."
	"Sure Kathy. Would you mind waiting for a moment? Wade and I 
have something to discuss," Mom said.
	"Not at all," Kathy responded.
	Mom thought for a moment and then turned to Kathy, "Look what 
my thirteen year old son has done to his mattress," Mom said 
pointing to the telltale wet spot.
	Kathy's facial expression betrayed her contempt for my 
infantile behavior. She shook her head in disgust but said 
nothing.
	Mom then turned her anger on me.
	"You know that you're not supposed to remove the plastic 
sheet from your bed. Now look what you've done. Don't you think 
it's about time that you stopped wetting the bed? Do you know how 
expensive it is to replace a mattress? Do you even care?"
	Mom was on a roll. For the next five minutes she lectured me 
on everything that I had ever done wrong in my short life. Kathy 
was listening intently to what my mother was saying and at the 
same time, she was going through the sacks that were stacked on 
the crib.
	Finally, mom was beginning to simmer down. She was trying to 
find a punishment that would fit the crime. But she was so angry 
that she was having a difficult time finding the right words.
	"I should... I should... I should." Mom always stuttered when 
she was angry. It was equivalent to some of the other mothers 
calling their children by all three of their names. She paused for 
a moment to collect her thoughts and then began again. "I 
should..."
	"Put him back in diapers!" Kathy interjected.
	Mom turned to look at Kathy. Kathy had found a sack that 
contained some of Mary's old cloth diapers. She was holding a 
handful of them out for my mother to take.
	Mom turned and looked at Kathy for a moment. Without saying a 
word, Kathy extended the hand holding the diapers towards my mom.
	"Why don't you mind your own business? You bitch!" I almost 
shouted.
	For a moment, there was a silence so complete that you could 
have heard a pin drop. Mom looked at me with a shocked look on her 
face. Her facial expression then turned to one of rage. In less 
time that it takes to write this, a powerful slap from mom's right 
hand was delivered to the left side of my face. I reeled from the 
impact. Mom then grabbed my left hand with her right hand and 
started towards the house. Almost in mid-stride, mom changed 
direction and approached Kathy.
	Mom held out her left hand to Kathy. For a second there was a 
look of confusion on Kathy's face and then a look of 
understanding. A smile graced Kathy's lips as she handed my mom a 
handful of diapers.