Archive week continues with an embarrassing moment!  All for a laugh, my friends!

Originally published 9/8/2010

I am ashamed to say that I have had many, many….  many embarrassing moments in Motherhood.  In fact, of all of my mothering friends, I would say I probably have the most moments that induce gales of laughter over a glass of wine.  All at my expense, all for the enjoyment of others.

I have had public displays of lactation, gas attacks that would clear a biker bar while pregnant, and every type of spit up, vomit, poop and other various child deposits on my shirts for all to see.  And smell.  And raise their eyebrows at.  My children have had full on temper tantrums in stores, restaurants, hospitals, Doctor’s offices, parks, pools and….  well, almost everywhere.  I have reddened and excused my way out of various places as quickly as possible.

Embarrassing moments last

But few things compare to my embarrassing moment during my day home with my children today .

I was cleaning.  I was cleaning fast.  I was cleaning like a woman on a mission with a goal to accomplish.  Focused on the end result – a house that my family could trash again in a minute – I put my head down and cleaned!  I’d pick up a toy, pick up another and then pick up the first again.  It is an endless process, only parallel to the redundant task of meal preparation on any given day.

Anyway, I felt the urge to go pee.  I put my broom down and headed that way.

“Mommy, can you get me a whipee?  I need to wipe up my milk I spilled.”

OK – done.  Off to the bathroom I go.

“Mamaaaaaa – I neeeed some pannntteeessssss.”

“Why, Sarah?”

“I peeeed innnn miiinnneeeee!”

Oh Heaven’s.

One minute later – or longer – correct pair of Lady and the Tramp underwear securely in place for the next potty accident, my bladder reminds me I need to go too.

The phone rings.

Hmm – I’d better get it.  I am needing to see when my husband is coming home so I can have dinner ready.  What I am making, no clue, so I need to know how long I have to decide, thaw and make it.

Oh no.  He is having a bad day.  Ordering my bladder to man up, I sit and listen and console as he tells me about every job having an issue and every stress of his day.  I feel for him, I really do.

By the time we get off the phone, I have forgotten all about my bathroom break.  I pick up the broom, hoping to at least get part of the house swept before I am distracted again.

And then it happened.  Mid sweep, with almost no warning, and no way to stop it.

I peed in my pants.

Now, this was not a full on let’s party it up kinda pee.  It was the warning shot, meant to send me directly to the bathroom with no stops for anything.

But then the girls saw.  Yes, yes, it was enough to notice.

“Look Sawah.  Mommy peed in her panties and needs a Dora Pull – Up!”

“Oh wooow Mommy!  Do you need me to wipe your tee tee?”

“Mommeeee – only babies pee pee in their pants!”

Oh hell!  Rolling in laughter, listening to all of my potty training advice come back to bite me in the arse, I am ashamed to admit that we were at code yellow by this point.  Oh, my thrice pregnant, over used, tired, overly patient bladder held on to the bitter end,  but it made me well aware that the days of neglecting it’s needs were far gone.

And the girls, also known as the pee police in training, were relishing in the fact that Mommy pee peed in her pants.  Only big girls use the potty.  Do you need to go right now?  No pee peeing in your panties Mommy!  Mommy, I just went potty.  See how I do it?

By the time my husband came home and I tried to absolve the shame by sharing – he just shook his head and I am sure will laugh heartily later – I was truly feeling the embarrassment to my toes.

To this moment, about to publicly admit that I am bathroom challenged, I think to myself: