Pittle On The Homefront

For years now (that sounds like a longer time that it actually is) I have been telling the kids not to hold in their pee…Or poo when they get struck with the act to go.

There are several reasons for this; such as, it is unhealthy and puts unnecessary strain on the bladder and kidneys when you hold in your pee. Not to mention when you hold your fecal matter in your butt, the stink of shit begins to emulate from your rear end. But mostly because I am scared the holding will get to be too much for them and they will end up soiling themselves.

It is like a broken record the amount of times I tell them this. Whether they are just too darn busy playing to take a quick 5-er to go and tinkle, or they like the feeling of holding their pee?  I’m not sure. Regardless I will more than likely have to remind them to relieve themselves forevermore.

So I am doing some running around with wee Sophie, while the Lars is at school yesterday. We are visiting a plethora of stores in town here as I am looking for some props for an upcoming photo shoot I have with Jen.

I feel the slight urge to urinate come upon me but think, pfft I’m an adult, I have the bladder strength of a goddamn thoroughbred (I do not know if a thoroughbred has strong bladder control).

Meanwhile I am asking baby girl if she needs to go potty every 2 minutes or so, “Go potty Soph?” “Time to go pee now baby?”

She is getting super pissed at me…No pun intended.

By the time we are walking through our homes door, my bladder is brimming. I feel as though I’m 9 months pregnant again, with a bladder bouncing baby. But the thing is, when you’re pregnant it is acceptable to have a little pittle in your panties.

Right now, right here,  at this time in my life, peeing your pants is not really the cool thing to do.

But I did it anyways.

As I pushed Sophie out of the way in an attempt to make it to the ‘big girl potty’ I felt the straw that broke the camel’s back. That straw was the unintentional scamper straight into the banisters railing that leads up to the kitchen. In my haste I ran smack dab into it, hurting like hell, but ultimately lessening my hellish existence at the time.

I stand there, on the stairs looking horrified at myself. This was not just a pee-pee-a-tad-then-make-it-to-the-loo kind of thing, I full out pissed myself. A forsaken torrent stream ran loosely down my legs. No stopping, no going back.

I feel like I’m frozen because I simply do not want to feel the experience of wet denim against my inner thigh. Oh for the love of all things sacred, how could I have done this? It’s on the fucking carpet too, couldn’t I have at least made it to the lino?

And then I hear it, then it happens, the shame of my parenting life thus far comes a crashing down upon me like the waves of a peed-upon tempest,

“Mama, Mama, you pee in your pants. Should of went potty Mama!”

Never again will I disregard the wise words I preach to my children…Never again.  


3 thoughts on “Pittle On The Homefront

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