Mommy Wants Vodka

…Or A Mail-Order Bride

In Which I Lose Any Shreds of Leftover Dignity (Like I Had Much Left)


Hi Internet, how are you?

It’s been awhile since we’ve last spoken, I know, I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call. See, the thing is, I’ve been a real raging bitch for the past 6 months or so, and have been terrified to let you see my wrath. I seem to piss people off without meaning to, and if I’m meaning to, I guess that I’m afraid that I’ll ruin any chance of Ben and Baby G-Unit having a normal life. You know, because the Internet can tell him how horrid I really am.

Either way, Internet, I have something to tell you: I’m pregnant! And it’s not yours, it’s The Daver’s. It also appears to have a comically large weenis and enjoys tap dancing on my bladder. Just like his daddy.

This pregnancy has not been without peril, Internet. I had a tear in my placenta causing some frightening first trimester bleeding then I was stricken by a mild case of hyperemesis graviorum. It was fun. It still IS fun.

But last night, something NEW happened.

See, Internet, I feel I need to be honest here. One 1.5 pound baby tap dancing on your bladder often = a little bit of pee in your undies. It’s not hot, no, but it is normal.

Now last night, there was a significantly greater amount of pee in my knickers and I began to get worried. The baby had been mercifully (probably due largely to the fact that I promised him a ‘beat down like no other’ if he didn’t give my bladder a bit of rest) kicking my colon and/or trying to escape through my belly button and avoiding my bladder.

Of course, Internet, this had to happen on a Saturday night when my doctors were out of the office.

So, off we trundled to the ER to make sure I did not have a small tear in my amniotic sac. After having my cervix and/or vagina examined for about 2 hours I was released to get my McDonald’s Carmel sundae and Diet Coke.

Diagnosis: Female Urinary Stress Incontinence (thankgod) r/t pregnancy.

That’s right, Internet, I peed my pants and then made the hospital tell me so.

Guess the giant box of ‘Oops I Crapped My Pants’ I bought for The Daver is going to be used by me.

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