Because rest-stops are practically non-exsistant in DC traffic. (June 2014)

I left the house at 6:45 in the morning armed with a smoothie and 12 oz thermos of black coffee. It was a long commute to work—usually just under an hour—but doable on summer mornings because it was pretty out, The Kraken usually sleeps and Emily was obsessed with Fairytopia on the cars’s rear DVD. As I pulled out of the driveway, the dashboard dinged to signal I had zip left for gas. I groaned to myself as this meant alternating the route and stopping for gas which would add a few minutes—which I didn’t have as I was trying to beat traffic. Amazingly enough, I slid into the Exxon, gassed up and minutes later, found myself speeding down I-270 in the HOV lane lip syncing to “Talk Dirty to me” because the 4 year old had headphones on, the Kraken was out and thanks to the low seat of the SUV, no one could see anything below my eyes from the driver side window. Then traffic came to a dead stop and for the next 30 minutes, we all crawled at 4 miles an hour until we passed a red Mustang. It had rear ended someone and somehow shut down two lanes of traffic. Midway through the first traffic crawl, the Kraken woke up and began to scream. In fact, she screamed non-stop for the next two hours. But I digress. It was now 7:45 and we were just getting to I-495. Emily informed me she had to go the bathroom—I told her to hold on, we’d be there soon enough and we need to beat traffic. We cruised uninhibited onto the GW parkway, drove less than 600 feet and then came to a complete stop. The 16 oz smoothie and the 12oz coffee long consumed, my bladder joined in and signaled we needed to find a bathroom and soon. The radio informed me that CIA had closed its north gate and this has caused a huge traffic jam. There were no exits to get off on, there was nowhere to pull over. There were no less than 80 million cars surrounding us. After 30 minutes, Emily surpassed hysterical and went full fetal position to keep from wetting her pants. I, too, was crying as I felt like a red hot poker had been jammed up my pee-hole. Rock wall with no pull off to my right, oncoming traffic and a river to my left, I was frantic to find a solution when I remembered an episode from “Orange is the New Black” whereby an inmate described using two pantyliners as a diaper and slowly released her pee so she doesn’t urinate everywhere on a long prison bus transfer. I didn’t have pantyliners but I had three diapers! I handed one to Emily and told her to open it and shove it in her underwear. She didn’t understand, she cried that “she’s a big girl” and “doesn’t wear diapers.” I lost my cool and hollered,  “Shove it in!!” to which she responded by dropping it on the floor and crying louder.  I felt my eyes begin to twitch as Emily and The Kraken discovered all new decibels. Showing up at daycare with two children who have peed themselves is one thing, showing up with two children and a 38 year old covered in pee is something all together different. Therefor, I shoved two diapers into my running shorts, the tops of which poked out the front. I went to let go, just a drop…..but I couldn’t do it. I just didn’t possess the Kegel strength of a prison inmate to let it out, ounce by ounce. I managed to hold on for another 10 minutes, the children’s screams seemed to be bouncing off my bladder, like tiny little Ninja kicks. And then it happened. A pull off! A glorious-but-super-small-and-slightly-terrifying-pull off!  I drove like a crazy person as soon as the shoulder allowed and, with my Huggies still protruding out the top, ran around the car to grab Emily. I ripped her out of the car and told her to “country pee” on the side of the road. She cried that she’s scared because she could hear all the cars and they were going to hit her. I explained that the cars were going 3 miles an hour and were definitely not going to hit her just as a loud truck rumbled by and Emily now beyond terrified, jumped up, wrapped her legs around my waist and peed. All down the front of my shorts, legs and flip-flops. The warm urine did not help my bladder out at all but amazingly, I held. I grabbed two brightly colored beach towels out of the back, Emily still wrapped around me like a spider monkey. I had to pry her off of me to affix the beach towel around her, which after it was securely fastened around her waist, she calmly informed me that she wants the one I’m wearing and then inquired why it was “all wet”.  I got back in the car in hopes to find a more secluded place where I could go. In hindsight, I should have just let it all go on the side of the road but I was determined to find a more adult solution. It took another 15 minutes to reach the first place I could pull off with a parking lot–the Pentagon–where I, again, drove like a crazy person, and sped to the first uninhabited spot. I quickly surveilled the lot—empty cars. I grabbed the cup that held my smoothie, yanked out the diapers, ripped off the towel and squat-balanced myself on the cup. I peed the most glorious pee in the history of pee. I close my eyes, let out a deep groan and leaned my head back. My rapture was quickly interrupted by a police car. I rolled down my window and with a nervous laugh, greeted the officer, my pee-cup perching hidden by the low seat of my SUV and the towel I had place over myself. He noted I had been driving too quickly and should slow down and was everything ok? I apologize profusely, explain my daughter was screaming (she still was) and I needed to change her. He gave me the okay and drove away. I looked down to retrieve the cup which is now filled to the absolute meniscus and, despite my best efforts, spilled it all over myself and the front seat of the car. With no police car in sight, I swiftly dumped what was left of the urine under the car and ran to the trunk to retrieve yet another beach towel.  At 9:20, we finally arrived at daycare. Wrapped from the waist down in brightly colored beach towels. Smelling like urine. The Kraken was still screaming (and also soaked in pee).