To Pee or not to Pee

It was supposed to be a good day. My five year old had graduated from pre-school a month before and was enjoying the last summer vacation before getting on the educational hamster wheel. But his babysitter texted me the night before to say she was on vacation and alas, I had no backup sitters who could fill the void. I decided to take him to a volunteer event with me the next day.

It was supposed to be a good day. In preparation for the day, I had made all our meals and readied our supplies. I wanted to get a head start on the impending 6 a.m. meltdown of a small child who has been comfortably getting up at 8 a.m. on his summer vacation days. Typically, I would plan for an hour to get him ready and into the car. Today I planned for an hour and a half.

My husband was home and offered to get our son showered and dressed. I simply had to put all our food and supplies in the car. I had so much time to spare that I decided to make a smoothie. The smoothie was the lowest rung of achievement in a summer of health failures. It was August but my summer body had not yet come in. It was still hibernating under a thick layer of subcutaneous fat that had not yet melted in the California heat. Ten pounds ago I had gladly laid my bikini-clad dreams to rest and was now reaching for low hanging fruit: clear skin. A green smoothie, I had decided, would do the trick. To compensate for not having a smoothie in the last week, I made up twenty ounces of an almond milk based milieu of frozen spinach, wheat grass powder, spirulina and moringa powder, topped with berries. I imagined the green goo cleaning my system as I gulped it heartily.

The day took a slight turn as I drove the half hour to our event that morning. My stomach felt full and so did my bladder. I should be fine, I thought. I was actually going to arrive early. Mind over matter. I’d read that we can control our bladder with our thoughts. Or at least that was what I hoped. And so I did! Except on arrival, my sweet child refused to get out of the car and after much cajoling refused to leave the parking lot. My students arrived and began greeting each other. Do I dare appear to be a bad mother and leave my child in the parking lot so I can make it to the bathroom on time? I was halfway across the parking lot, hurrying to open the door and turn off the alarm when I realized my sweet child was still crazy-glued to the back of my car and was having a silent standoff. The meltdown apparently was just delayed.

I decided to be a good mother and called him to follow me, imploring him to hurry so I could make it to the bathroom. I successfully turned off the alarm and sprinted to the bathroom. My sweet child decided to follow me all the way into the restroom because, heaven forbid, I should pee alone. The seconds it took to fling the door open so he can come in, turn the lock and fumble with my pants were too much mind over matter for my bladder. Matter prevailed. Rivers of it.

Looking back, there were so many things I did wrong that day. First I decided to wear pants. They were business-casual, understated and perfect for a day of volunteering. Except that these pants were meant for someone ten pounds lighter and with better dexterity. This was, after all, why I’d taken to yoga pants because the bladder of a woman of a certain age who had borne a child, cooperated best with a snap-less, zipper-less, elasticized affair that moved readily with little prompting.

Mistake number two was my lack of preparedness. I have long since eaten the snacks from my emergency supplies in my car. I stopped toting it around when I realized that when the “big one” hits California I would likely not be anywhere near my car anyway. I had also removed the emergency clothes. Now the only emergency clothes I walk with are boys' 4T pants with reinforced knees and 4T t-shirts in very dark colors. And wet wipes; lots of wet wipes. I’m considering buying stock.

It is a very difficult thing to explain to a pre-schooler why he should go to the potty before the pee-pee comes down when you are standing there urine-soaked. A mother loses her credibility quite quickly looking this way. He stared at me silently but his eyes were round as saucers. I stared at him and kept on repeating “Mommy wet her pants.” I cleaned up as best as I could and asked my sweet child to tell me if the wet spot on my rear was covering the whole caboose. He said no. I explained quietly that we would have to leave and go get Mommy some clean clothes. I did the walk of shame out the doors, past my students, to my car and being absolutely grateful that on the 8th day God created Walmart.

Needless to say I left Walmart with a bag of rank clothing but my clean bum was covered in newly purchased low rise bikini panties and skin tight pants that are certainly on the list of a fourteen year-old girl somewhere. I shuddered as I inspected every dimple on my behind and upper thighs. But I was pee-free thanks to wipes I purchased because the ton of wipes I pack for my son were all in my car. I prayed no one would stop me for inspection and so I clearly held out my receipt as I hurried out drenched in the sweat of shame and of trying to fit in adolescent pants.

No day is complete without a little stress. Apparently it builds character. And apparently the gods of character-building decided today was my day of development. For as I conducted my daily activities I needed someplace safe to stash my cell phone. Skin-tight adolescent pants do not prioritize side pockets and the rear ones were just large enough to fit a phone. In trying not to repeat the day’s debacle I decided to empty my bladder before I left for home. Of course my sweet child decided to accompany me once more. And as I peeled off my second skin to allow my compressed nether regions to re-expand, the forgotten cellphone in my back pocket decided to help me build character. And so it was I ended my day fishing out a phone from a very public toilet under the watchful gaze of my pre-schooler.

That evening after my preschooler and I made dinner, he looked up thoughtfully from building legos to tell me how much he enjoyed spending the day with me. He asked that we do it again soon. Oh, my heart was full and my bladder was empty. As it turns out, I was right. It was indeed a good day.