Things That Make Me Feel Old: A Guest Post

Things That Make Me Feel Old
{a guest post by Liv Stecker of Bendability}

I wet the bed.

I did.

The horror of it took several days to wear off, but when I finally admitted it to my sister, she reassured me everybody does it, so I came here to find affirmation that I’m not the only one. Tell me, please, even if you have to lie.

I’ve decided since the heinous event never to take Tylenol PM again, which I had tried in lieu of half a hydrocodone to keep the pain at bay long enough to fall asleep.

Turns out, Tylenol PM also keeps bladder urges at bay, and then you dream about your triumphant return to stage in a reprise of The Music Man, except this time playing the lead. Furthermore, you think you’re seated on the toilet in the tiny ladies restroom in The Woodland Theater — the one you painted periwinkle blue in 1993 — and, well, you wet the bed.

Yes, I will forgo the sleep aids in the future so I can lie awake, instead, in paranoia of my newly acquired bed-wetting skill.

In my own defense, I will tell you I was so completely shocked that I actually woke up mid-stream and caught myself.

The trick became hiding the evidence from my husband, who of course woke up to find me changing my clothes.

He wanted to cuddle.

Gross. Who cuddles with bed wetters? Seriously.

It seems like after being married for almost two years, a little bed wetting wouldn’t be a big deal. Kind of like the time you threw up on his shoes, or, hypothetically speaking, when you had a really unfortunate case of diarrhea after a trip to Mexico … just one of those things, right?

The problem is, I married Mr. Clean.

To my knowledge, in the two years I’ve known Josh, he has never taken a crap. On the toilet or otherwise. NOT ONCE.

God bless my Irritable Bowel Syndrome and Chronic Diarrhea, my pooping habits have become a mystery long solved. I blew any fantasies he had of a crapless wife right out of the (toilet) water. I feel bad about this but have to live with the shame.

Having a husband who doesn’t even break wind is a very far cry from the boyfriends of old who could win a county wide farting contest with a single bowl of chili. The last man I lived with taught my girls to compliment each other on the tone of their passing gas, and the push behind manly belches.

Fast forward to the immaculate Mr. Weston, and nary a toilet seat is left up. In fact, Josh puts the lid down, on every toilet in the house, compulsively. This has become a marital issue between us (interesting switch up on the toilet seat debate, no?) due to an incident when I was about 7 years old and in a Very Big Hurry to use the toilet and somebody had put the lid down. All I remember is my Great Grandmother on her hands and knees mopping it up. There is a good chance my Great Grandmother had actually passed away long before that, and all I can assume is that her ghost returned to shame me from the grave. So toilet lids remain UP in my house. Now and For All of Time. Considering he doesn’t even use toilets, I don’t know why he has to go around closing them all for the rest of us.

While I’m confessing past potty sins, I suppose I shouldn’t leave out the Culmination of All Embarrassments (at least  until two weeks ago), when our family was staying at a Pastor’s house and I got to sleep in the bedroom of the slightly older and reverently idolized daughter, only to wake up with a frantic need to pee in the wee hours and wet my pants all. over. the. floor. With my hand on the door knob of her room, standing parallel to her once slumbering head, I wet the floor. She moaned at me and rolled over. I’ve hated her ever since.

I hope the rest of you get the chance to wet the bed and feel as human as I did. And as old. And as ashamed. I spent the entire next morning texting friends about bladder incontinence and whether I should rush to the ER or buy stock in Depends first. I even checked into reserving a grave plot now that the inevitable is rushing up at me and I’d like to spare my kids that worry.

In the end, I invested $50 in cranberry juice and capsules so I could blame the incident on an imaginary bladder infection if anyone (Josh) found out about it, even though I washed my wet pants First Thing the next morning.

Tell me, please, am I the only one?



Liv Stecker is mom to four wild girls. She divides the rest of the time that she doesn’t have between fighting fires, waitressing, saving lives, teaching school, writing and watching Netflix in inappropriate amounts. She lives in the part of  Washington State that Nobody has ever heard of and travels a lot to make up for it. You can find her online at Bendability, which is the only place she stays put for more than a few minutes. 

P.S. I also asked Liv to send me a picture. Here’s what she said. “You said picture and I froze. Don’t you have a blog post about this? Like head shots and stuff… Anyway… all I have are selfies, none of which are serious. You can choose the least worst selfie. I prefer the one with beer, because beer. But also reindeer are nice. If I find a seriouser  (this non-word seems appropriate here) picture, I will send it. But usually I am in a Peter Pan costume or something along those lines. I would actually prefer to use a picture of my dog. Or even wine. It really sums up my life more accurately.”

P.P.S. I like Liv.


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22 responses to “Things That Make Me Feel Old: A Guest Post”

  1. Are you still out there? It happened to me…I didn’t wake up at all while it was happening by the time I woke up it had already “cooled down.” My husband is fast sleep next two a stack of three towels. I wonder what this is going to look like in the morning… a part of my brain is considering concealing the sin…thank you for at least helping me feel like I am not alone in my 40s pondering a second round of diaper wearing in life.

  2. So glad I’m not the only one. Normal 46 year old here. Just exhausted (yeah, that’s the excuse I’m going with) that night. Having a dream where I needed to pee and finally got to the bathroom just in time. Woke up thinking did I just…? Stood up felt and yes, I did. Ugh and not just a little. I think I finished. Clothes change, sheet change, towel on the mattress, towel between the mattress and explanation to my husband. No I live in dread that I will do this again.

  3. I thought I had the only husband on earth who had to train ME to put the toilet seat down instead of training him not to leave it up! I’ve never had the traumatic Great-Grandmother-mopping-up-an-accident moment myself, so I just let him retrain me on putting the toilet seat all the way down, as well as some other cleaner-than-my-natural-inclinations habits. As nice as it is to have a clean husband, I often miss out on many wife-griping sessions with other women because I can’t complain about my husband being a dirty slob. But I guess you can relate!

    No worries about peeing the bed. I peed the store one time. No PM medicine to blame or fake bladder infection or anything that makes it easier to admit.. I just didn’t go to the bathroom soon enough. For real. Yeah…

  4. 2 boys, 9lb 3 oz each. Pelvic floor was ruined. Not only did I wet beds, I poo’d a bed and a car at various points (no closet to date) Luckily my husband does use the toilet and toilet humour has formed a substantial pillar of our relationship since we met. As a proud member and user of the NHS a lovely NHS Gynaecologist inserted a TVT ( a couple of years ago. I can now BOUNCE with equanimity. It is AMAZING!!!! Do not ignore your pelvic mayhem ladies, there are good solutions available that can transform your life. I understand that in France they routinely put in a TVT post-partum for many ladies. Really, you are worth it.

  5. When I was 13 and my mom was 43, we went through a period where we were both wetting the bed on the same nights. I don’t think our periods ever synced though. (She’s a 5 time cancer survivor, sharp as a tack and 82 years old now, so I don’t think bedwetting signals imminent doom.)

  6. I’ve had the exact same experience, and considering my aptitude for toilet dreams, I’m surprised it doesn’t happen more often. Well leaks, yes, but the full blown have to a towel or two and do laundry….you are not alone.

  7. 4 months pregnant with baby #5, I pee ALL THE TIME! I’ve stood up after going the bathroom, coughed, and peed myself a little more. Getting old comes with more embarrassing situations than I prepared for, but also with a larger sense of “who cares”(thankfully). If anyone knows where I can buy pantiliners in bulk though.

    • Mom of six here, don’t currently pee my pants (often) but when I am pregnant, I have relied on cloth pantiliners, which are so much nicer than regular pantiliners that I am a convert and no longer buy the other ones in bulk. I found mine on etsy. They are great postpartum, too!

  8. I wet the bed at age 33. The last night of my maternity leave when I had to wake up and go to work in the morning for the first time in 12 weeks. I was stressing out and having crazy dreams and I wet the bed. I totally blamed it on the baby. Not “hey, I just gave birth”, but more “her diaper must have leaked while I was nursing”. But it was me.

  9. Yeah… I wet myself A LOT… In fact, I’m just getting over pneumonia, which ya know, involves a lot of coughing, so I’ve basically just lived in poise pads for well over a week and going to the bathroom even before I think I need to, just to be safe.

  10. Totally wet the bed the other night and woke up wondering what was happening. I was dreaming and it made total sense on the dream…. And I didn’t have Tylenol pm as an excuse, just exhaustion. I ran to the bathroom, cleaned myself up, and threw a pillow over the spot in the bed and went back to sleep. Thankfully my husband didn’t ask in the morning why there was a towel in our bed. I’m at a conference now and sharing a bed with a friend–and not THAT kind of a friend, but a wonderfully delightful professional colleague–and I have 2 nights down and 2 to go and even though a bed wetting event seems to happen only every six months or so, I’m terrified it will happen again while I’m here. So to say this post was an appropriate read before I head to bed is an understatement. Thanks for admitting our humanness!!

    • you have no idea how much it warms my heart to know that I am not alone. When I posted this one originally, NOT ONE PERSON comiserated. To say that I am friends with a herd of prudes might be an understatement. So thanks!

  11. Um, yeah, been there, done that. Just last night, in fact. I’ll go check out the prices in the local cemetery now…

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