So, I know I said I wasn’t going to blog until after my long weekend away, but a tweet of Noble Savage’s gave me the urge to write about wee. I know not quite my normal high-brow (cough) material, but you really can’t ignore the urge to blog about wee.
As opposed to the actual urge to wee which, when you give birth, you become almost immediately able to ignore for hours on end – though if you forgot to do your pelvic floor exercises, this can become quite dangerous.
We hold it in for fear of waking a baby sleeping in arms. We hold it in while we change nappies. We hold it in just a bit longer while we put that load of washing on. We hold it in while fight to get children dressed, fed, washed. We hold it in while read just one more bedtime story.
I have gone through a whole day of not managing to fit a pee in, finally managing it after Rosemary’s in bed. I wonder if the constant need to pee during the night when pregnant is setting us up for the years of not being able to pee enough.
And if stretching our bladders to their outermost reaches isn’t enough, we have to add to that the indignity of rarely getting to actually pee alone. I wonder if all those trips to the loos with girlfriends in pubs and clubs was preparation for having to share our every urinary evacuation with the masses – albeit teeny tiny masses.
Do dads have the same issues, I wonder?
[Normal service may return next week, though I won’t make any rash promises.]