That Depends
Occasionally I wet myself. I’m happy to admit it. A sudden sneeze, a violent cough, a burst of laughter – all send my bladder control into a tailspin that causes excess fluid to jettison the main ship. Yup, middle-age incontinence has taken up residence.
I find it humorous that the alternate, second definition for incontinence is “lack of self-restraint” which pretty much sums me up in other areas of my life – though I wouldn’t necessarily say that I pee in my pants just for the hell of it.
My question is:
Why aren’t we adults all wearing Depends on a regular basis? I mean, modern technology has made diapers a truly brilliant underwear option for ALL ages – advances in moisture-wicking, all day dryness translate to a no-brainer wardrobe shift. Just think, if you could load the entire, diaper wearing family into the car for that seven hour road trip and announce – “We are not stopping for anything” wouldn’t you raise your arms in triumph? If you could rage on the dance floor at your friend’s 50th birthday until 3 AM without having to throw away three pairs of urine drenched underwear – wouldn’t you feel like you came out ahead?? I mean, adult disposable undergarments of today are NOT your grandmothers’ diapers – have you seen how slick the current designs are??
After carrying and birthing three healthy babies who are now teenage whirling dervishes, my urinary tract has paid the price. Don’t get me wrong – I’m no slacker. I’ve been doing Kegel exercises since before I knew there was a word (or Dr) “Kegel” – but age, muscle stretching and gravity are not your friends when it comes to bladder control – and at some point, you just have to face the fact that you are having more accidents as an adult than you ever did during your potty training days as a toddler.
But who wants to forgo jumping on the trampoline with your drunk adult friends, or crazily jumping up and down at Camp Randall in Madison at the end of the third quarter when they play “Jump Around” for the crowd of 80,000 Badger fans, or supporting your cute daughter in a jump roping fundraiser called “Jump For Japan??”
That was the day that I decided to fully own my incontinence. As a mom, you try to be there for every single one of your kids, every single day. And the day of “Jump For Japan” was no different. My daughter, who was in elementary school at the time, had come up with the idea of a jump roping fundraiser to raise funds for victims of the massive tsunami in Japan. She and two friends had worked with the school principal to get the whole event approved, posters made and hung, activities planned and a bake sale organized. The event would take place after school. But, since life’s calendar can rarely allow for only one significant event in a day, I soon learned that my oldest son had a significant health issue that would require lots of tests – which of course got scheduled on the same day as “Jump For Japan.”
I promised my daughter that there was no way I would miss her big event. And I promised my son that I would be by his side for every single medical test that he had to endure that day. We parents have all been there right? My needs and my bladder fell way down on the list of importance.
By the time I came careening into the parking lot of the elementary school that afternoon, I was running on fumes – there had been no time for food, no bathroom breaks, no pause to check how I looked in the rearview mirror. I came panting into the front hall of the school like a disheveled bunny rabbit that had just been roughed up by one of my yellow labs – alive, but a little worse for the wear. But I was THERE – and bunny rabbit that I am, I was ready to now be completely present and JUMP FOR JAPAN and for my daughter!
One of the fundraising events was a “Penny Jump Challenge” where students could challenge any adult in the gymnasium to jump for as many pennies as that student or students were willing to donate. I strode into the gym – wild eyed and game for whatever came my way. And immediately three students approached me and said “Mrs Keller, we’ve got $3 and we challenge you to 300 Jumps!’ and they handed me a long, plastic jump rope.
300 Jumps? Like a walk in the park. No problem!
I started jumping – and I didn’t pansy around – I went straight into the Rocky Balboa speed jumping – as the three girls gleefully shouted out my count. I was shouting the count with them – fully energized and so proud of my daughter and her schoolmates for organizing such a heart-felt event. At about jump number 157 I suddenly became aware of my bladder and my mind scrolled through the day and re-confirmed that I hadn’t visited a bathroom since I first got out of bed that morning. No problem. I was more than halfway through – “I’ve got this,” I thought to myself, and quickened my speed. I am a competitive person – not so much with other people – mostly just against myself, and there was no way that I was going to let these students down, but more importantly, let myself down, and throw in the rope early.
The first small squirt came when I was close to 200 jumps. But I was no stranger to this – and a small leak was nothing to be afraid of. No problem.
I kept jumping. More kids had gathered in a circle around me – loudly chanting the count together and then the small squirts gained momentum and turned into an intermittent stream.
Houston. We have a problem. But just like Apollo 13, this ship wasn’t going to self-destruct. I kept jumping.
Most normal moms would throw down the rope and innocently claim “ugh – you know kids, I’ve got a cramp” or “oh wow, I just strained a muscle in my leg, I better stop, but I will gladly double your donation!” There is no logical reason to keep jumping when the dam has broken and the stream has become a full-fledged river. But not this rabbit….somewhere in my head, the Depends brand tagline was taking hold – “Life Is Better When You’re In It,” – and boy was I in it! I kept jumping.
I could feel the hot urine coursing down my leg. 273, 274, 275! I could sense the wet stain spreading across my light-colored blue jeans. 288, 289, 290!!! As the final jumps came into focus, my body was looking like the town water tower exploding – but just as the spectators watching the Space Shuttle Challenger explode in 1986 weren’t quite sure of the catastrophe they were actually witnessing, the students excitedly counting my jumps weren’t registering the incontinence disaster unfolding in front of them. Lack of self-restraint my ass! This was strong self-discipline and determination if I ever saw it! I kept jumping.
I completed my Rocky impersonation, finishing my final jumps with a double cross-over maneuver and then, whipping the rope back and forth in front of me in a triumphant flourish, I threw it down like a mic drop at a Kanye West concert. The kids cheered enthusiastically and happily turned in their $3 to the fundraising cashier as a fog of urine stench engulfed me – leaving me looking like Pig Pen in the school gymnasium with nowhere to hide.
I could have run out of the gym to my car and called a friend to ask if she would drive my kids home later. But instead, I owned it. I did tie my sweater around my waste – to minimize the gawking, and I tried to stand next to as many moms with toddlers and babies in strollers in order to hopefully lay blame for the stench on an unsuspecting innocent bystander.
But when a teacher came up and asked how I was doing, I didn’t shy away. “I’m great! I just fully wet myself!” I exclaimed with a broad grin spreading across my face.
“I’m sorry, you what?” He asked, with a look of surprise and confusion.
“I fully wet myself. You know, this jump roping thing is not for the faint of heart!”
And we both laughed.
Life isn’t for the faint of heart either! You can choose to stand on the sidelines and be a spectator – so that you don’t get embarrassed by a little “lack of self-restraint.” Or you can jump in and be a part of it.
Me, I think I’m going to start pulling on some Depends every once in a while for those belly-laughing, jump for joy, dance like there’s no one watching moments that are too good to pass by.
Go on…Wet Yourself!
“Life’s Better When You’re In It!”
- Ewe Bee U
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