One of the perks of living out in the country is I have a massive yard. 20 acres to be exact. Enough space that I can fulfill my desire to run through the woods buck naked when ever the desire hits and almost enough space to ignore the cries of my children as they beat each other with sharp pointy sticks.
Because of the massive size of my yard, we have more than enough space to fill it with large toys to distract my kids from video games, the computer, television and the shiny glint of my boob rings as I let my inner nudist run wild.
We have the pool, a swing set, the requisite sandbox for the neighbourhood cats to pee in, and my favourite, a trampoline.
The trampoline is nestled in a crook amongst the trees, invisible from neighbours but not far from the front of the house. We placed it there so I could putter in my large perennial flower bed or relax on the nearby gliding swing while my children jump around and try to break their necks. Because, you know, it’s more comforting to be able to witness them snapping like twigs while I pull weeds.
We bought the trampoline against the advice of our pediatrician and Bug’s neurologist. We listened to their cautionary tales of woe, weighed the statistics (in our area alone, between 80-100 children a year arrive in the emergency room with serious head trauma due to the big bounce of the tramp) and then quickly marched our parental asses to the nearest sporting store and slapped down 600 smackers to buy the biggest trampoline we could find.
We like to live dangerously around here. Heh.
By far and away it was the best 600 dollars we ever spent on the kids. Not counting for food and diapers of course. Fric and Frac loved it and practically lived within it’s mesh walls for four summers straight. They had a whole little universe with a spongy floor created inside that trampoline.
Not to mention I was the coolest aunty in the world whenever one of my nieces or nephews came over to visit. Heh.
Some of my most cherished memories I have of my Bug are sitting on that trampoline and double bouncing him as he sat there and giggled and bumped around while giggling like a mad man. Or asking my husband where our son was after he placed him in there for safety (like a big play pen) as he mowed the lawn and forgot about him and I found Bug sweetly sprawled out on the tramp, snoring softly as the birds twittered in the trees around him.
(Ya. We are totally in the running for Best. Parents. Evah!)
Still, the time of the trampoline wonderment is quickly passing. The kids no longer bounce their day away on it, and Bug is bouncing in the big trampoline in the sky. It’s time to move on and make way for bigger and better toys.
Soon the only people who will be enjoying the spring of the tramp will be Boo and I and our friends, when we drunkenly stagger out to it after a game of cards and try and recapture the lost glory of our youth with liquid courage and beer induced stupidity.
(Not that we’ve ever done that before. Heh. I’m just guessing.)
I was out, swinging gently on my swing, next to the trampoline, the other day, watching the leaves sway to the gentle breeze and watching my neighbour’s horses graze across the road. It was a beautiful summer evening and I was reliving all my trampolining memories with nostalgia when suddenly the kids came barreling out of the house and spotted me, sitting quietly in the trees.
Translation: there was no way I could make a quick escape. I was found. Damn it.
Climbing into the trampoline, they started jumping around like monkeys and pretending to be ninjas while shouting, “Mom! Look at this!”, “Mom! WATCH ME!”, “MOM! You’re not LOOKING!”, “MOM! MOM! WE’RE GOING TO KEEP CALLING YOU AND DRIVING YOU INSANE UNTIL YOU SHOW US A SLIVER OF ATTENTION!”
I did my best to fake interest. But to be honest, once you’ve seen one kid nard the other in a ninja kick gone wrong, you’ve seen enough. Still, I mustered false enthusiasm as they bounced higher and higher and competed with one another to see who could do the best back flip, triple sow cow whatchamacall it.
“Mom, come and jump on the trampoline with us!” Fric called.
I deferred, calling out that I was just happy to be sitting on my arse, watching them and soaking in their glory.
“Mom! Come and bounce! It’s fun!” Frac called.
I just shook my head and politely declined.
“MOM! Come play with us!” Frac called again. Again I shook my head and smiled and wondered how I could make a quick escape back into the sanctuary of my house without them following me in. (Cuz I’m thoughtful like that.)
“Oh, don’t bother, Frac,” Fric called to her brother as she bounced up and touched the clouds. “She won’t come in. She’s too old anyways. She’d probably break her hip or something.”
Such a cheeky child. I don’t know where she gets that from. Must have inherited it from her father’s side of the family tree.
(Stop laughing.)
Well, with those words, the gauntlet was tossed. Dammit. I am not old. I’m in my prime. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some two-bit blonde 11 year old sass me like that and get away with it. It was time for the DOUBLE BOUNCE. That’d teach her, I thought as I clambered up the ladder and onto the trampoline.
The kids giggled with delight and things got a little hairy for a few minutes as they tried to take their mother down. However, they sorely underestimated my own years of experience on the trampoline and maybe forgot that I have about fifty pounds on them. Heh.
It wasn’t long before they were begging for my mercy. Just as they should. Heh.
It also wasn’t long before I realized I may not be as young as I once was. While I could still out trick them on the trampoline and bounce so high they almost touched the moon whenever I landed, there was the small problem of my bladder.
A bladder that had been used and abused the last decade by having nine pound babies sit on it while I gestated it and they used it for a kick-boxing bag.
A few bounces in, and I knew my bladder was no longer my friend. In fact it was public enemy number one every time I landed. Between my uncontrollable laughing and the pressure of my springy steps, my bladder betrayed me, one dribble at a time.
Bastard.
I tried to act nonchalant. I tried to pretend that every time I bounced a few more drops didn’t just squirt out like someone squeezing a lemon. But I knew, rapidly, that the time was coming when the flood gates would open and soon my children would be bouncing upon a wet black surface.
I knew I had to call it quits or go find a diaper. One or the other.
Damn it sucks getting old. So much for all that time spent doing my kegels. There was no amount of squeezing pelvic muscles tightly to contain the yellow flow of urinary love.
I hobbled to the net, trying not to bounce, trying not to think of the sounds of water rushing, when my kids stopped bouncing and asked where I was going, with a disappointed tinge to their voices.
“Um, you guys were right. I’m old. I hereby bequeath you the title of Best Bouncers and bow down to your greatness. I’m going in,” I covered while trying really hard not to hop up and down as my bladder screamed at me for release. This was one situation where that would decidedly not help.
I should have just kept my mouth shut and waddled out while I could have, only slightly damp between the legs and dignity intact. Shoulda, woulda, coulda.
My demon spawn, intent on terrorizing me until I’m toes up in the ground, took one look at each other and read the other’s mind, smiled evilly and crept towards me.
“Stay back,” I warned. “I need to get out.” I struggled to find the escape hatch in the net while keeping my balance.
They cackled maniacally and I knew I was in deep shit. Or deep urinary waters, as it were.
With a great big laugh, they jumped as high as they could and landed near me, sending me flying. Just as I landed from one bounce the other sent me flying again.
It was the like the little dutch boy pulled his thumb from the dike. My bladder called me a nasty name and opened the flood gates.
I lay there on the floor of the trampoline, laughing and gasping and the kids crawled over to me giggling. “Okay, guys. Enough,” I tried to sound stern. Now I officially no longer had to pee, but had to change my pants.
“I’ve gotta go. Let me out,” I begged, as I crawled towards the exit.
Just then Fric noticed the wet spot on the trampoline and squealed in disgust. Then she noticed that my pants were looking a wee bit wet and her sharp brain put two and two together.
Howling with glee, she called to her brother, “Look Frac! Mom peed herself.”
Cuz I needed the public service announcement. My mortification levels weren’t near high enough. I needed two punks to point out my pissy problem.
“Ya, ya,” I shot back. “I had an accident. Thanks to you two.” And then I hot footed it into the house as they laughed like two firm bladdered loons at their poor infirm mother.
A few minutes later, I was dry, but my ego was still bruised. Fric and Frac came back into the house, trying to stifle their giggles and the look of youthful superiority on their faces.
“We’re sorry Mom. We didn’t mean to make you pee. We should have been more careful,” Frac condescended to me.
“Ya, Mom. It’s not your fault your body is falling apart,” my lovely daughter piped up. “Come back out to the trampoline and we’ll play nicer. Besides, your tank has to be empty now,” she added evilly.
Aw shucks. I can tell you I was just overwhelmed with parental love at that moment. Love I would have liked to express by wringing their lilly white necks like chickens.
“Um, no thanks. I’ve had enough. Now go play before I make you hand wash my dirty laundry,” I threatened.
My children, obviously don’t fear me. Because suddenly, they burst out laughing and my daughter gasped, “But Mom! We brought you something that could help you!”
And then they tossed a diaper (kept in the car for visiting babies) in my lap.
“This ought to help you!” And then they ran away like laughing lunatics, enjoying my pitiful pisser problems.
Hahaha. I was so amused.
So amused I chased them outside and soaked them with the hose. While sitting on them and tickling until they gasped for mercy and threatened to pee their pants. Take that you little beyotches! Heh.
The lesson of the day: Avoid trampolining if you’ve ever squeezed out multiple children through your lovely lotus of love. Remember you are OLD. Or at least your bladder is.
And always make sure you can run faster than your children to mete out just desserts.
Now excuse me. I’ve got some diaper shopping to do. If you see me, now you’ll know why baby’s got back.
85 Comments
Your kids are awesome.
While the sense of humor in your family is clearly genetic, that is a sucky thing to deal with. I have found that clenching up during sex not only strengthens those muscles but also triggers orgasm. A two-fer! You know, in case it needed to be for more than one reason.
My bladder feels your pain, my sista! I peed myself for the first time this summer.
LOL! This opens up a whole new type of income….adult diaper reviews for the active adult.
*snort*
*gigglegiggle*
Yeah, we’re going to have to have a trampoline date soon.
Thanks for another excellent post! This reminds me of the time I nearly shit my pants while riding with my kids on the “haunted mansion” knock-off at the Mall of America due to a sudden attack of explosive diarrhea. I guess incontinence comes with the territory. We finally get our kids potty trained, then we have to worry about ourselves!
That is hilarious! (Sorry but it was a great story)
I’m surprised your kids aren’t tied up in the basement after that! They are funny though.
I’ve never know anyone with a trampoline before … can I come over to play?!
I know what you mean about peeing. I used to be able to hold it in for hours. Now there’s not warning … I gotta pee!
Too funny…. your kids have a great sense of humor and you handled the situation wayyyy better then I would have!!!
This is why I no longer jump on the trampoline…
And to think our bodies were supposedly -made- to make babies. Then why do they reject us after?
But for the record, you’re still a better mom than me ’cause I would’ve never gotten in the trampoline to begin with.
And as for TSM’s suggestion, that doesn’t help much. At least not with the trampoline troubles. It works rather nicely for the other purpose though.
Why do I have the sinking feeling that this story will be retold by one or both of them at an inopportune time in the future?
Do my kids live at your house?
I thought I was the only tortured mom.
It’s the price we terrific moms pay for being so hilarious, our kids learn by watching our brilliance and we pay for it every day for the rest of our lives.
You’re just brave enough to post it on a blog.
Your revenge can be also telling us about every time they peed their pants - in public.
Oh my god, the tears were streaming down my face as I read this! Too funny! You are an amazing story-teller! And your kids are too funny!
I almost peed myself from laughing so hard!!!!
TOTAL flashback from last summer when hubby double dog dared me that I couldn’t jump rope longer than he could…
But I still jumped longer than him, WITH wet pants! And I’m only 28! It’s not a matter of age, but birthing babes. Laughing, pointing, sweet little babes.
Oh sweetie, I feel ya. I’ve peed myself twice. Once before having two babies while I was at work and once after two babies, just past my six-week mark. During sex. Feel better?
That was too funny. Thanks for telling that one. Don’t worry, I’m sure that Fric and Frac would never tell that story to anyone else.
ROTFLMBO! That was hilarious!
2 years ago, I went to the dr to get a pill that was supposed to help that. It worked while we were on vacation, but not after that. I wound up having a TVT procedure that worked GREAT! Little piece of mesh keeps the urethra from falling and making me pee my pants!
LOL that was funny!! I can so relate!! My 4 boys have done a number on my bladder!!
Thanks for the warning. My aunt bought a trampoline and although I have been able to avoid it when visiting I will be sure to visit the potty before bouncing. Or grab some Depends.
come back and see me when you wet yourself inside the local convenience store…UGH!
Jumping on the trampolene is horrible for the bladder, but the trampolene is a great place to have sex. Send Fric and Frac away, and you and Boo can add a little bounce to your bump. Have fun.
LOL @ your kids! Well not @ them, but with them. You know what I mean.
I have a rule that before I read your blog, I make sure I have gone to the bathroom, and I avoid all beverages.
I know the liquid will leak out one way or the other, and my screen keeps getting spewed coffee on it! You totally crack me up with your blog and are the highlight of my blog reading day~
“In fact it was public enemy number one every time I landed.”
Heh…number one…becuase you peed…good one!
You are totally awesome. Had I witnessed this, I’d have peed from laughing so hard while watching. Instead, since I was here on my deck reading this, I clamped my thighs really tight and hopped inside!
I have nothing really to say. You rule.
I am laughing my @$$ off… having birfed 3 big babies myself… there is nothing like a good coughing or sneezing fit to have me running for the bathroom moments too late… I know this… and… so unfortunately do my daughters… and they are just as demoniacal about my little accidents… Laughter is so cathartic… I wish you much of it…
You know what? This is a GOOD thing:
If they don’t behave, I would threaten to pee the pants in front of their friends.
Aww, so funny, so sad, so bittersweet. It does take the sting out of my son (16 months) hitting me in the face with a harmonica yesterday morning, though–so thanks!
All I can do is laugh and howl while running to the toilet. This was freaking hilarious. Sorry to laugh at your incontinence but it is nice to laugh at someone instead of being the one others are laughing at.
Great story!!!
I taught my little girls (I have three, 4, 3 and almost 2) how to do jumping jacks awhile back….and quickly found out that *I* had better not do those myself! I didn’t even have to go and pee was finding it’s way into my drawers.
Good God Tanis….this one had me laughing and nearly peeing my pants in. my. office.where.I. am. not. alone!
You make me proud to be a Canadian just like you!
It was about time Depends found a decent looking spokesperson anyway.
While adding the trampoline on your list of things not to do with a weak bladder…might as well add roller coasters on there. Because the many MANY people who also stood an hour too long can VIEW your humiliation, not just your children. Bonus: your friends, the bastards, can take pictures that they’ll email around just for fun.
I was on a ferry this summer and got motion sickness. I went in the bathroom and puked and pissed my pants at the same time. Not good. I feel you pain. My kids call me mommy who always has to pee pee.
This shit is funny.
Have you noticed that trampoline jumping is an Olympic sport now. Watch out. world. Here comes Redneck Mommy with her Fric and Frac.
OMG this is why I won’t jump on the trampolines at SkyHigh here in our town. My son never understands why I won’t do it. My daughter and son would have done the same thing that Fric and Frac did.
Your blog is absolutely hilarious!!!!!!!!
bwah-hahahahahahAHAHHSHhahhahahahhshshshahhahahahahah!!!!
oh, my…wait….. Ahahahahahahahahahahahahhahadhhahhhahahahhahah!!!!
*snort* Ok, I think I’m okay now….you poor thing.
dude. you are not alone. every woman i know piddles in her pants when she jumps on the tramp. me included….. i totally cannot jump on it without laughing- and then almost pissing myself. for reals!
I too was a trampoline brat and this post took me back.
I just discovered your site and after reading the first 3 posts I’m totally going to be coming back here. I also checked your previous blog, but since I don’t like to cry while watching the Olympics I’ll have to go back to that one. Kudos though for having such an awesome sense of humor and take on life!
There are no words. I’m laughing way too much.
My niece has a trampoline. And after about five minutes I always have to go inside. So i started wearing a maxi pad anytime I get someone begging for me to go out with them…Darn kids. Now my 10 and 11 year old step kids are bgging for one….and thus I may be getting a bunch of pad’s used up soon cause of them…:) Darn it.
I almost peed myself reading that. Yes, having kids has done a number on my bladder too. I was at the playground with the kids one time and we were playing tag on the jungle gym. I jumped down and when I hit the ground I just completely peed myself. I had to run home, thank GOD we were close!
I just peed myself from laughing so hard. Thanks for passing on the love.
That is too freakin’ funny! Yeah, after 2 kids I practically pee myself every time I sneeze.
I have 2 kids, a tramp, and a bad bladder. I thought I was the only one! I guess that’s what they make garden hoses for!
Oh my…all this time I thought something was wrong with me.
It couldn’t possibly be natural to leak-pee while playing tag with crazy 5-year olds. I haven’t had a full-on pee my pants episode, but I leak like a dam with a crack (or is that a dame with a crack…I’m so confused…)
That is the funniest things I read in ages. HILARIOUS.
omg! Just this weekend, my best friend and I were talked into jumping on the trampoline by our kids and GRANDKIDS. We had no business doing that to our 51 year old worn out bodies. That bladder speaks up pretty fast, doesn’t it? Now, I’m so worried it’s going to wind up on youtube.
oh Tanis i dont know whether to be horrified and cry for you or call fric and frac evil for doing that to their mom or just laugh no if i laugh to hard i may pee MYSELF …
Dude. I piss myself on a regular basis. There is no room in my life for a fucking trampoline.
Fortunately my bathroom is just across the hall because I almost peed myself reading this!
I think I peed myself just reading this.
Having had my prostate ripped out, the one operation that IS dam equivalent to childbirth as far as a man is concerned, my bladder is officially the equivalent of a 60 YO mom that dropped four 15-pound babies in her 30’s.
I mean, now, I pee whenever I pass a restroom or the toilet. I hate it. If I sit on the edge of a stool, and lean forward, I have to squeeze the stick to stay dry. If I am trying to pass gas while sitting in the big easy chair (Of course NEVER without the misses around), its a bitch, because the act of releasing said sphincter muscles to let loose an olympic qualifying toot will also allow the flood gates to open, so to speak, so i have to do it in stages. But well, its a pain.
So sista, I feel your pain, or feel your wet ones. God, what fun when i am in my 80″s, going out the same way I cam in, in diapers.
If you think of the jimmies as a pump, and Mr Winkie as the spout, when you lean on the pump, you prime it, then when you do it a second time, you pee it.
ugh
Aw dude I was so hoping the story didn’t end with wet britches. At least you can laugh at it and let us laugh with ya. Thanks!
I want a trampoline. I haven’t got kids yet. Hmmm…1+1=2! Woohoo!
Oh my word, my husband wants to know what I was laughing so hard at for 20 minutes when I should be working. No I’ve gotta go to the bathroom so I don’t suffer a similar demise…. Thanks for keeping it real.
*hysterically laughing*
If it makes you feel any better, I peed my pants on three separate occasions this year while I was pregnant with my little girl. I’m not talking like little piddles either I’m talking full on pissing everywhere! Yep, I’m tough shit like that! My kid can be Satan’s spawn while still in the womb!
I’m seriously thinking about starting a new site and place nothing but ads on it…
You know, for the sole purpose of providing for your diaper fund!! lol
God, she so played you when she first said you couldn’t do it because you’re too old. I guess we sometimes forget though. My dad broke 5 ribs trying to ride a kids bike down a huge sand dune. Did I mention my dad used to be 500 pounds?
http://notesfromthesleepdeprived.blogspot.com
Well, don’t feel bad cuz you just made me pee my shorts reading that post! I love your blog by the way–you are hilarious. I added you to my blogroll. Swing by and visit me sometime!
Hi T,
I’m sure you know that I always read your posts, though I don’t always comment. I just had to speak up after this post to tell you - you are not alone!! I have to use the toilet immediately before any sort of exercise. And if I get too over-full in the bladder, I have to stop and clench and clench and CLENCH. (Sometimes that doesn’t work and, well ….. what happened to you happens to me, albeit on a lesser scale)
You are not alone, and we are NOT getting diapers. We are saving up for bladder neck suspension surgery.
Hugs and a kiss,
Jelly
Love this! I had so many fun times on my trampoline when I was younger. My friends and I loved to just lay on it and talk about stupid topics. My mom had the same problem after she had my brother. Like when she has to go, she has to GO. NOW. You are not alone. : ) LOL
If it makes you feel any better, I pissed on myself at a Super Target recently.
We took our kid to the SkyHigh jumping center here. Its basically a warehouse filled with wall to wall trampolines. I joined my kid on the trampolines because I am cool like that. I ran and jumped and did flips. I kept thinking how cool I was and how all the other moms were just prudish, boring old ladies. I’m still young, I’m still cool, I’m like Lara Croft level badass!
I walked in a crouch and limped for the next three days. My neck, shoulders, arms, legs … everything .. hurt. Bad. Ass.
God, I can relate! I pee myself when I yell at the kids. I guess it’s the universe’s way of telling me to stop yelling.
It took all these years for you to learn the rule? ALWAYS surreptitiously go to the loo before jumping on the trampoline. Child birth is brutal.
i was officially entertained reading this entry! your kids are awesome, you are an awesome mom and gosh i wish i had a trampoline growing up too!
Just another thing to look forward to in life. Heh.
I can’t even couch without an oops at this point, after almost 6 kids trampolines are on my own terrorist list.
Blasted suckers are fun though.
Oops cough***
Silly fingers.
you asre fuck’in slut and your kids are fuck’in ugly
Wow, Tanis, I was gonna say something witty an amusing, and then I read the tripe in the post just above mine. Yikes. What a prick, or to borrow my new favorite insult (thank you Backpacking Dad): What an asshat.
Oh, and the pee story was damn funny!
I know I’ve said this before…I almost peeed my pants reading your post..
Where in the heck do you get our energy from and that was too good for just this blog…
Most of us share the same issue..few will admit to it…congratulations
Now I’m scared to jump on my grandsons trampoline..without a diaper…
Dorothy from grammology
grammology.com
I console myself with the thought that even *had* you gone to the WC before bouncing with the kids, that post-baby-bladder-bit often manages to reserve just enough to cause embarrassment during bouncing.
Fabulous entry babe… I love trampolines as a kid - but now I know why my mother wouldn’t ever join us!
You are both hilarious and a “fuck’in slut” which, in my book, are two very essential requisites for friendship.
I’ve had the same problem countless times when cheering my kids/nephews/nieces on at sporting events!! Stinks, don’t it?!
I’m fine until I get bronchitis. Then I’m fucked.
Also, remember when your grandma would say she couldn’t play because she had bad knees. I bet that was code for “I will pee all over you”.
I have been reading your blog for awhile now and you are funny as hell! I can relate, I have had 3 kids myself and my bladder has never been the same. I have to cross my legs and pray everytime I sneeze….
So, i just found this website and this story and laughed until I had to go pee and then came back to finish reading! I am at work (alone in my store in the mall) and I am hysterically laughing to myself. The guy across the hall must think I’m nuts! This is officially my new favorite site! I love your outlook on life and your sense of humor! Thanks for keeping it real!
Having birthed 5 kids of my own, I totally relate. I can’t even sneeze or cough hard without “taking the stance”, clencing, leaning to one side and getting ready. It’s good to know that I’m not the only one beat to hell by giving my lovely little ones life……