I Peed Myself Today

It's true. I knew better than to wait. I tell my daughter to give me more warning than seconds before she's about piss herself. Do I listen to my own advice? Of course not. The definition of parenting is to do as I say not as I do.

I had 984797 errands to run today. I was cranky, I wanted to be home in my yoga pants and no bra, and I didn't have time to pee. I had to find a dress for my daughter, I needed toilet paper, and I was needing a fresh supply of pink champagne. I didn't have time for perfunctory bathroom breaks.

I briskly strode into Old Navy, huffed around the displays and found nothing. It was then that I made the mistake of coughing. If you have had any children, you know the strain those fetuses put on your body. Your uterus capacity is stretched to ungodly limits, and the bladder is permanently lax. If you have the audacity to cough, laugh, sneeze, run, or even breathe, you are asking for it.

Keep in mind, I had twins. The amount of stretch inside (and outside) was straight out of Alien. Whatever used to keep the pee in when I was in a store has since disappeared.

So, I sit here, pink champagne in hand at 4:30 in the afternoon, googling thong or boy shorts versions of Depends.

Toast to motherhood and pissing ourselves.