Chickens in the Basement

I love to write and I love to laugh. When I write, I get to the point quick. My stories would fit on the back of a postcard. They usually make me chuckle. And you know what they say, "It's all about me!"

Monday, June 1, 2009

Bladder Control

Fifteen years ago, I had my first child. After that, I didn’t seem to notice any changes in my bladder. But after my second child thirteen years ago, I think I sprung a leak.

It doesn’t help that I drink gallons of liquid a day. For example, right now, it is 9:14 am. I have had two large glasses of water (to swallow my hand-full of vitamins and tablets), a can of diet coke, a tall cappuccino from Starbuck’s (same as a small cup of coffee), a bottle of water, and two sips of a 20 ounce bottle of diet coke. More will follow as the day goes on.

I never pass by a restroom, public or not, that I don’t evaluate my bladder. If there is the slightest bit of pressure, I will stop in for a visit.
The problem comes when I am in the car, sipping away. Once I turn onto the road where our house is, the pressure starts. When I pull into our driveway and debate whether or not to get the mail, it ramps up and I pass the mailbox. In the garage, I have to talk to my bladder before I open the car door. “We’re almost there. Less than 50 yards and we’ll be in the bathroom,” I tell the cramping organ. I pause at the steps to squeeze my knees together. The door to the house is opened while simultaneously unbuckling, unbuttoning and unzipping. I do the knock-kneed speed-walk to the bathroom. Just turning on the light is akin to a baby crying to a breast-feeding mother. The let-down begins, but my pants aren’t down yet! Deep breathing, pants being shoved down while maintaining the knock-kneed press and quick flop on the potty! Finally, relief! Once the panic is gone, I evaluate my clothes to see if a whole new outfit is needed or just undies.

There is something about my chicken house that brings on an immediate need for a bathroom. While my chickens dawdle around the yard on their way to their safe place, my bladder goes from zero to sixty in thirty seconds or less. I confess that, more than once, I have hidden behind the shed, dropped my pants and peed in the woods. So, if you are riding by my house in the winter time just before dark, there’s a good chance you will see a moon rising between the leafless trees.

In my next house, I will have a toilet in the garage and the henhouse!

4 comments:

Mary said...

Oh Anna - you described this 'get me to the potty' dance so perfectly - and hilariously!
Your often cross-legged friend, Mary.

P.S. Thank God for panti-liners is all I can add.

Jenny S said...

You really are too funny! Glad to hear the Tony is okay!! See ya!

Em said...

Oh my goodness - you are SO funny!!!

Anonymous said...

OK so I must confess, I too suffer from the same! Recently I thought I was going to make it, got to the fromt porch & thought Oh no! Just had a seat on the step, clothes & all, might as well not do anything different as I had obviously lost my grip. Was on the cell phone with my duaghter in law, who said, is something wrong, I laughed & told her my husband had just come around the corner & caught me! My 2 1/2 yr old grandaughter wanted to know what was funny & she told her- "poor Maw-Maw she had an accident & wet her pants. Aww, the little one said, let's take her a pull up! Out of the mouths of babes