Every mother has experienced the inexplicable joy of waking up in a warm puddle of pee, be it from a leaky diaper, a newly potty trained toddler, or even an embarrassed older child. This morning around 5AM I found myself in just such a puddle.
There were no kids in the bed.
Yes, Internet, I totally peed the bed last night. It’s funny, because it only happened once, but if this becomes a regular thing it will immediately cease to be amusing.
The silver lining of peeing your bed is knowing you were in a deep sleep, and getting to feel refreshed the next morning despite smelling like a urinal.
I vaguely remember getting that feeling of having to go, and clenching when I thought I felt a renegade drop. What I didn’t realize at the time was that the renegade drop was the tail end of a good old fashioned bed soaking. When I woke up enough to register that I had peed the bed, I tried to push Jesse away from the compromised area. He’s used to me pushing him and kicking him, so he just rolled over. I ran to get a towel and tried to rush back before Jesse could accidentally roll into the pee puddle, but the dog started whining to go out and I didn’t want her to poop on the carpet, so I rushed downstairs, hurried her through her business, then sprinted back upstairs to cover my spill with the towel. Jesse was none the wiser.
I spent the remainder of the morning sleeping atop the pee towel in a heroic effort to spare Jesse the indignity of wallowing in my bed-toilet.
When he eventually woke up and I told him I had peed the bed, he looked at me warily and said, “So, what, you’re incontinent now?”
I’m not even offended that he didn’t seem all that surprised to hear I had started pissing myself. I told him in an exasperated tone that no, I was *not* incontinent, and that I had merely enjoyed a very deep sleep.
His answer? “Let’s hope this isn’t the first of many.”
From his lips to God’s ears, you guys.