It's not a birthday celebration until someone pees their pants. That's what I always say. Or at least that's what I say now.
Now that I've turned 30 and have officially lost all control of my bladder. Yep. That's what happens. Once you push a baby out of your vag and you get old like me—you pee your pants. Just accept it. It's part of aging.
And now that I'm officially old, I have the right to complain about hip and joint pain, and say things like "he's got THE diabetes" (cuz when you're old, you put the word THE in front of every ailment/illness.) I can start getting perms at the salon, and lick my finger before I turn the page of a book. I'll carry used kleenex stuffed up my sleeve, and wake up at 5:30am because "I don't want to waste the day."
Anyway, back to my birthday party festivities. You're probably wondering, "What did your lovely husband plan for you on your 30th Birthday?" Well, I must say, I was pleasantly surprised with a weekend away in the pretty lakeside city of Kingston, Ontario. He rented the three of us a hotel suite on the water, and arranged for my parents to come down on the Saturday night to look after Cole so that we could go out on our own.
And this is where SHIT WENT DOWN PEOPLE! I'm talking strip-clubs, diamonds, fireworks, illegal substances, tigers, fire-spinning orgies (is that even a thing?)...
Okay, well that's what it FELT LIKE to be free from our adorable five-month-old baby for a night. In reality, we went down to the hotel restaurant and sat on the patio to enjoy 2 bottles of wine.
And let me tell you, four glasses later and this light weight (I'm pointing to myself) was absolutely LOADED. It was awesome.
We talked, laughed, drank...and looked at pictures of our son. I know. How lame are we? But he's just so damn cute. We couldn't help ourselves. We also might have drunkenly talked to our server about "how great it is to be a parent." and basically urged her to go home and get pregnant...
Anyway, when it was clear that we were that annoying table that just wouldn't go home (no one else was in the restaurant at this point) we decided to pay our bill and leave. I wanted to walk home along the waterfront trail, so we took a small detour. On this detour while we were walking, my husband stubbed his toe on a rock. To subside the pain, he immediately began doing jumping jacks. For some reason, I thought this was THE MOST HILARIOUS THING IN THE WORLD and I collapsed to the ground and instantly started to pee. I couldn't stop it. I tried. I tried oh-so-hard but I couldn't hold it in. There I was, sitting on the grass in my pretty birthday dress in a puddle of my own pee. Birthday pee.
I had always heard women say that "after you have a baby, it's harder to hold your pee" and I guess this is where those damn kegels would have come in handy (note to self: DO MORE FREAKING KEGELS) but...what's done is done—and...it's a story to remember, that's for sure.
On my 30th Birthday, I peed my pants.
I am, however, scared of what might happen on my 40th Birthday....?