As yet, no one has peed on this version of the novel. (And if you are one of the people I sent the manuscript to, and you have, please don't tell me. Also, you can keep that copy.)
The last revision was a rewrite. When I was finished with the first draft (one that I knew, upon finishing, was not good enough to send to anyone else) I had the bones of a real story. But I didn't properly understand my characters, I hadn't put in enough of the underlying mythology, and there were some bits that were just flat wrong. I had good bones, but I had hung the wrong flesh on them.
I feel much better about things this time. I've started to hear back from my readers, and the things that need fixing, well, as I read over the manuscript and begin to take notes, I can see how to fix them. Much of that can be summed up with "more exposition here." As a reader, I hate when the author hand-holds me through a story, and so as a writer, I tend to go vigorously in the other direction. Which means sometimes the necessary bits get left in my head. However, the necessary bits are in my head, so it's just a matter of realizing when and how they should get on the page.
Which makes it sound easy. It's not. It's really hard for me to look critically at my own work, and to cut the well-turned sentence (kill your darlings, my dears). And some scenes aren't any better the fifth time I write them. They're just wrong in an excitingly new way. But I can feel the story getting better. And that's what matters.