I am confident that each child I give birth to is given several of my brain cells as a Birthday present from my body. My body is all like ” here Rachel’s offspring, take the fruits of her educational labor that she barely took in. The caffeine and alcohol consumption will kill them anyway. They need a young mind to survive. You will need these more than she will.”
This theory seems reasonable and true , that is until conversations I have with our children during quiet time.
- I shouldn’t have to talk to them during
- I’m tired, go read your book, or sneak into the pantry to get Oreo’s. I don’t care what you do, go away.
” Just let Momma rest her eyes for two minutes while you read your books , okay?”
” Ok Mom. How long is two minutes? Like two Dora shows, or like two days?”
” It’s not that long honey. Now go read.”
” I know but, I need to know HOW many books I need to read for it to be two minutes. Three, seven?”
” Read three.”
” Ok, long books or short ones?”
” Never mind.” ( Gets up off the bed. Makes mental note to wake certain child in the middle of the night. )
We all have those moments in parenting, or the grocery store when we make bad choices. They seem like a super great idea at the time, but in the end you have your regrets. Like that one time I tried the off brand of Monistat. I couldn’t sit for weeks. I had to wear my husbands boxers. There wasn’t anything sexy about those weeks.
Speaking of impulsive bad decisions, yesterday I hit an all time low in my life. I never thought of myself as the type of woman to squat in the back of my mini-van and pee in a diaper, but there I was. Relieving myself in front of my four year old. I had held my bladder for what seemed like weeks as we drove around running errands, as I convinced myself I had a bladder of steel. The denial held off the urge for a few hours until we had to meet my husband at a job site. As we watched him trimming trees, somehow the sounds of all the chainsaws had me all relaxed.
It was then I remembered I had to pee, like really bad. Our youngest wears a size four, and judging by the size of her large butt… I figured I would be fine if I was really careful.
There is no such thing as really careful when you try to pee in a diaper as a grown ass adult. There just isn’t.
The urine came like a flood, as I was powerless to stop it. It was then that for the life of me I couldn’t understand WHY my two year old would rather piss in THIS, than on a toilet. It felt like wet foam filling my crotch, and I was suddenly nauseous.
It didn’t take but a few seconds for me to realize that I am not a size four kind of woman. I needed like a 6. Maybe one of those Huggies overnight ones? A super absorbent pull up? Either way, despite my best efforts, pee was running down my leg.
Baby wipes come in handy, you know if you ever do something this rhetorical. Which I hope I’ve given you sound advice through this article, so even if you’re thinking of doing this, you won’t.
Out of the corner of my eye I see my husband coming from the back yard of the house he was working on. I knew what I was doing would be a huge turn off, so I quickly took the diaper off ( yes I strapped it on , because I am even weirder than you think ). I jumped in the front seat, as he climbed in.
” Why do you look so weird?”
” Because I just peed in a diaper, and got it all over my underwear, so now I am going commando. And no, this isn’t sexy. It’s super weird.”
I just have one serious question to ask:
Do you wear underwear on the reg? If you don’t… why?
Have you ever peed in a diaper?
Don’t you feel smart now?