This morning I went to see a urologist.  For those of you who don’t know what that is, it’s a doctor who specializes predominantly in problems with the bladder.  Yes, I’m having bladder issues.  Specifically, I pee too often.  I will be minding my own business and suddenly I’m running to the bathroom, all for a tiny result.  In the middle of the night?  I’m up 6 or 7 times.  It’s a joy.  She told me I have an Overactive Bladder and she gave me a prescription.  I argued with her.

“I do not!  You’re wrong!  THEY have overactive bladders!”  I pointed to the two pamphlets on her counter.  One had an old lady and an old man dancing together because neither one of them had to run to the bathroom to pee.  The other one had an old couple sitting together with big smiles on their face, not a bit worried about where the nearest bathroom is.

The doctor reassured me that just this morning she saw three people in my age range with the same problem and even children get it.  She gave me my prescription and a print-out describing the disorder and how to lessen the effects.  Then she told me the side effects:  Constipation and dry mouth.  Fantastic.  At 6:15 every night I will be taking a crazy pill and a don’t pee pill, both of which cause dry mouth, which  means I’ll spend the rest of the night unable to think about anything else but water.

Right before I left, the medical assistant asked me to give a urine sample.  Please.  I pee so much I could give her three.  I got into the bathroom, got myself ready and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  I freakin’ couldn’t pee!!  I was at the damned doctor because I pee too much and I proved them wrong with an inability to pee.  After a few minutes I managed to produce and I went on my way.

When I got home, I read the print-out she gave me, which was very interesting and also made me very angry.   First of all, apparently Overactive Bladder (OAB) is caused by spasms in the bladder, and the medication helps stop that (in 1-6 weeks).  So basically it’s like my bladder has a seizure disorder so I’m taking the equivalent of Keppra or Depakote.  Okay.

Then the really fun part.  I need to eat fresh fruits and vegetables and lots of whole grain and fiber due to the constipation side-effect.  What do I have to avoid? Tomatoes and all citrus fruits like oranges, which I love, love, love.  No caffeine, which means no coffee.  Bad.  No carbonated drinks.  Bastards.  I also have to avoid chocolate.  What?  How can I live without my Peppermint Patties or Jr. Mints?  Last, worst and how-will-I-make-it-through-the-night?  No alcohol.

What. The. FUCK?

1.  Screwdriver – Vodka and orange juice (that’s TWO things I can’t have).

2.  Seabreeze – Vodka and cranberry juice.

3.  Wine.

4. Peppermint Patties/Jr. mints – chocolate.

How Will I Live?

Let me set the scene:  I’m doing laundry (which I try to do as often as possible because folding is my favorite thing), and it’s Noah’s turn.  I pull his clothes out of the washer (top load – don’t judge) and as soon as it’s empty, I do a double take when I see this:

W.T.F?

Now you’re getting a closer look at it than I did, and mine was a quick glance.  I swear my knees got wobbly, my bowels locked up, I think my heart stopped or maybe it sped up, and a scream threatened to let loose.  A life flashed before my eyes: Giving birth, his first steps on his birthday, his first day of kindergarten, his first flight with Gramma and Poppa, finally trusting the water, his curls that everyone wants to touch, his voice changing.  And now this.  This.  He’s thirteen for fuck’s sake!  Terrified, I took a second look, reached down, and with a squinchy face I pulled it out from under the drum or whatever it is.

AND breathe

A rubber glove from his science class.  Okay, so he stole it.  Big Ef’en deal.  At least he’s not stealing virginity.  Gross.

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So in case you haven’t heard, I have a couple of routes I take when I run/walk the pups.  My favorite and most-used route starts with a moderate hill that I walk up.  I walk fast, but I walk.   Except for the part where I stop to let Luke poop.  I try to get our cardio 3 times a week, sometimes less sometimes more.  Last week I decided to do something totally crazy.  I decided I was going to run up the moderate hill.  I walked to the corner from our house to “warm up,” turned the corner and said, “Let’s go pups!!”  We then proceeded to run up the hill.  To clarify, I’m not sure run is the correct word for what I was doing.  I would call it, “aggressive jogging.”   I pushed my way up that hill, pups in tow, and Luke didn’t poop and before I knew it – or forever later – I was at the top!  I made it!  I ran/aggressively jogged up the moderate hill!  I so badly wanted to jump up and down with my arms in the air, Sylvester Stallone style in “Rocky.”  I didn’t, though, because it’s a busy street and someone I know always passes by me and by then I had probably already had triangle sweat down there and a line of sweat under my up-tops, plus one line straight down my lower, lower back.  So I held back my excitement and continued on my aggressive jog/walk journey and when I got home my time was (obviously) the best ever.

As soon as I got home, after I drank two sports bottles of water and walked around trying to get rid of the shakes and splashing cold water on my face I called Beth, Hot Joe and Mom (probably Hot Joe first, though) and told them all, “I ran up Ventu!!  I did it!  I can hardly believe it!  I mean, it wasn’t like a fast run, but it wasn’t walking either!  Best. Day. Ever!”  Then I listened to them each rave about how awesomesauce I was and how proud they were of me and I drank it in and walked around the rest of the day like I owned the world.

The next morning after dropping the kids off at school I decided to clock my mileage so I could be even prouder of my accomplishment.

A whopping 0.2 miles.

Last weekend, Hot Joe and I took Noah to see “G.I. Joe.”  It was so good there were two other people in the theater.  We didn’t care, we knew Noah was going to love it, there was a lot of action, and Channing Tatum and the Rock?  Please.

Our favorite part of going to the movies is the previews.  It gets us excited, except when it’s an awesome amazing movie coming out this Christmas and it’s June.  That’s just dumb.  Two movies in particular got me excited:  “The Fast and the Furious 6″ with almost all of the original cast (can you say Paul Walker?) plus The Rock.  We’ve seen every Fast Furious movie, me for the eye candy and Hot Joe and Noah for the cars and the racing and whatnot.  The second movie is “Hangover 3.”  Don’t judge.  The first two were stupid funny, and again- Bradley Cooper!!!  I can look.

And then there is television.  We enjoy several television shows but there are some commercials that we love so much we will pause them if one of us is in the bathroom and sometimes we’ll even play it twice.  Here are our top three, with our favorite at the bottom.

Number 3

How sweet is this man for teaching his son to throw the ball when he himself throws like a girl?  And the boy misses the car by a hair every time.  So great.

Number 2

What’s not to like about this entire commercial?  Seriously – her adorable hair cut, her little dress and her blue sweater, holding her daddy’s hand and then her smile followed by a nervous little frown.  We want her.

Number 1

There are a series of these commercials and they are totally unscripted and this guy has the best responses in the world.  I hope they keep these commercials coming.  This particular one is our favorite because the little girl is so dramatic and his response is classic.

Lastly, there are 3 or 4 women who are in multiple commercials.  I refer to them as commercial whores.  There’s the 1-800-Contacts lady and the 1-800-Dentist chick and another one with a little voice who’s on a couple of Burger King Commercials and a dog treat commercial and I don’t know how many others.  I actually found pictures of two of them but I couldn’t find the Burger King one and I don’t want to leave anyone out, so I’m leaving them all out.  Sorry.  I’m pretty sure you know anyway.

And that is the end of my entertainment for the day.

Every night, after tucking Noah in, I take his cellphone into our bedroom and plug it in so it can charge on a shelf behind Allie on the floor next to me.  I also bring his laptop and his iPad, which are hidden until he is allowed to use them again.  Before I plug his phone in, I usually peruse his texts (yes, I know he can and probably does delete them) and then check out the feed on his Instagram.  A lot of the kids post and comment really inappropriately, but that’s on their disinterested or uneducated parents.  Some of these kids are up at midnight.  MIDNIGHT.  How does an 11-13 year-old stay up until midnight, mind kind of racing from electronics, wake up in time to eat breakfast and get to school, and then concentrate when they get there?  Like I said, not my problem.

However, I did come across a post from a girl Noah’s age that disturbed me to no end:

That gun?  It’s her comment.  A gun.  As in, “I want to kill myself.”  I was completely shocked, mortified, terrified.  I asked Noah about it and he said, “Oh she does that sometimes.”  I understand girls can be dramatic and will do anything they can for attention, but some of the others said, “I don’t know what to do,” “I really can’t cope,” and, “I know I’m ugly but can some guy just take one for the team and love me.”  Pretty much every single post was a picture of her or a depressed statement.  Was she serious or was she just being dramatic and how do you know the difference?  And why did 55 people ‘like’ this post?

Noah, knowing me, told me to please leave it alone and don’t call her parents (I have no idea who they are) because then everyone would know it was him.

I emailed the above picture to the school counselor, who said she would take it from there, and I know that she will.  The thing is, how do you know if a girl is serious or not?  Why did nobody do anything about it?  Most importantly, why did her parents have no idea she was posting things like this?  I feel like parents are being irresponsible and trusting their children too much (except for my sister, because my nephew posted a picture of a tractor yesterday).  I feel like parents are completely unaware of what kind of stuff their children are wearing, how they are posing, when they are posting and what they are saying.  Quite frankly, it’s pretty frightening.

What will the teenagers of 2020 be doing?  What will social media be like then?

Parents, please, look at your kids’ Instagrams and all of their other little social sites.  Read their texts.  If you don’t know how to do this, ask someone.  If your child owns an iPhone, you have the ability to block any apps from being downloaded and any internet access, and it’s password protected so your child can’t change the parameters.

Please, be more involved.  Don’t let your child be the one posting such frightening things for everyone to read.