The Day I (almost) Peed into a Diaper

I really appreciate those moments when I see other parents like me. You know, those perfectly imperfect parents that also seem to be just barely making it by, taking life one day at a time?

I'm talking about the mom at the grocery store who with vampire speed, quickly picks up the dropped pacifier, pops it in her own mouth to clean it off, and then gives it back to the screaming baby. Yep, been there. Many times.

Or the dad who, in front of every person in the checkout around him at Kohl's, loudly threatens to spank his tired, cranky misbehaving child (I personally like to whisper it in the child's ear so no one else can hear the threat, but to each his own). Been there too.

The mom that says she's telling daddy if the kid does (fill in the blank) one more time. I do this one near daily, even though I've heard time and time again that it diminishes my own power with my children. 

And we can't forget the dad with the adorable little girl who's wearing snow boots, PJ pants, and a stained t-shirt with an uncombed-hair-ponytail (mommy obviously wasn't home when they left) enjoying a healthy lunch at McDonald's.

I also particularly enjoy any time I see moms or dads of three or more kids braving society alone. It's hard work. So hard that I avoid taking all three kids alone to the grocery store like it's the plague.

It is just nice knowing that I'm not alone. We all struggle. We all have good and bad moments. We all have those times when instinct kicks in and we have to MacGyver our way out of a difficult parenting situation.

My best personal example was the day when I was in hour five of a six hour car ride, alone with all three kids who had *finally* fallen asleep. I remember that I had decided to venture, sans spouse, with the munchkins to grandma's house for the weekend. After what I am sure were a couple of days of lots of exhausting fun, we were on our way back home.

Usually this rare moment of silence would be awesome. Especially following the hours of screaming, fighting, potty breaks and spilled snacks and drinks that I had most definitely endured. 

And I would have thoroughly enjoyed the silence. Except for one thing. 

I had to pee. 


Had I not had a post-three-baby-bladder I may have not been in so much distress; however, the strain from holding it in was near excruciating. 

I considered my options. I could stop somewhere and go. With this I'd have to wake them all up, put their winter coats and shoes back on them, drag them into a gas station bathroom, figure out how to get all three kids to stay in the stall with me without them climbing under or opening the stall door, this all while trying not to pee my pants.


I could pee in a diaper. 

A fresh diaper was just within my reach, mockingly screaming for me to use it.

I looked at the clock. It had only been 3 minutes. Ugh. Fifty-seven minutes until I'd be home. 

I shifted positions. I unzipped my pants to give me a little more bladder space.

Nothing helped. I looked over at the diaper, it teasingly kept whispering it's presence to me. 

Use me... Use me... You'd feel so much better, it soothingly seemed to say.

I reached over and grabbed the diaper. I peered into the rear view mirror and looked in the back seat. The kids were still asleep.

Was there an off ramp close? Should I pull over? Will a diaper hold this much pee? Can you get a ticket for stopping to pee into a diaper? 

So many questions rushed into mind.

What should I do?

Well, sorry to disappoint, but in the end, I chose not pee in the diaper. I may have peed my pants just a little bit, but at the time I thought that more dignified than a grown woman relieving herself into a disposable diaper. Jury's still out on that one though.

Back to the point.

To the mom at the mall play area that just gave her 2-year old son a big swig of a 64 ounce QT fountain drink after his sippy cup went empty, I get ya.

We've all been there.

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