As long as you don't pee your pants, your husband will still love you. Probably.

"Being married to you is always such an adventure."

That's what my cowboy told me this weekend. We were on our way to Provo to spend an AMAZING weekend with his aunt and uncle and cousins! As we started out on our 2 and a half hour drive I had a cup. A BIIIIIGGGG cup of water. Less than 40 minutes into our trip I was making that annoying slurping sound that the stupid kid at the movies always makes when his soda is all but gone and he's still trying to suck every last little bit of that sugary goodness up that straw so that when he comes down from his sugar high he is going to crash hard.

About 42 minutes into the ride I had to pee. And not like an, " Hmm, I can hold this" but rather an "OH MY GOSH I feel like I'm trying to stop a fire hose from spraying water with just the clenching power of my thighs to keep it from gushing out." [a bit extreme? Not if you had experienced it]

All the while, Riker is talking. And talking. And I love him but if you were to ask me exactly what he had said I would have to reply with something along the lines of, "What? Someone else was in the car with me? No way. All I could here was my bladder screaming at me how much it hates me." I love my husband, I truly do. I am the  most blessed woman to ever walk the face of the earth. He is kind and humble and handsome and so incredibly sweet but I was rather preoccupied.

And then, it happened. [No, sorry I didn't pee my pants] It started POURING rain. And then I heard laughing from somewhere far off. And I thought, "And the clouds opened up and God said, 'I hate you Alfalfa."

I'm sure you are wondering, especially if you know me, why I just didn't ask my husband to pull over so I could pee on the side of the road. All the cars driving by wouldn't be the first to see my naked bum squatted on the side of the road. They would join the hundreds of firefighters, the Japanese tourist family, and numerous other vehicles that drove by while I relieved my aching bladder on the side of the road. However, it just so happened that it hit me whilst we were driving down a winding pass through the mountains, it was pouring rain, and there was no where even remotely safe to pull over. Instead, I put on my big girl panties [I was wishing it was a diaper] and clenched my lower body to stop from embarrassing myself in front of the man I love.

As the road grew Longer and LONGER, Riker noticed my discomfort and asked me so sweetly if I was feeling ok. It only took him and hour and a half to notice and at this point it had been so long since I had spoken I wasn't sure if I knew any other words except "toilet" and "now". Despite his "concern" he laughed at me when I said I had to pee. "Didn't you go before we left?" Yes, I had in fact. However, that extremely large cup I mentioned was now sitting in my bladder pushing against miniature flood gates wanting to burst.

Throughout all of this, among my thoughts of golden toilets and toilet paper so soft you would want it for a pillow, I couldn't help but continually think,

"Chelsea, as long as you don't pee your pants, your husband will still love you. Probably."

And then my fears were confirmed when I said those words out loud and Riker replied with, "Yeah, that's true. Don't pee your pants. Being married to you is such an adventure."

This was the longest trip of my life. Suddenly I realized I could feel the threat even worse. What was happening?! I was still clenching my thighs, right? Yes, right, only the left one was numb and the right one had a cramp right in the groin. And still, the need to pee was all I could feel. Coupled with that cramp though, I thought for sure that a loveless life was ahead of me.

"How much longer? Like ten minutes right? No, I don't want your opinion, just agree with me!" For the next half hour I continued to say this. Riker seemed oblivious to my discomfort which I thought was obvious by my white knuckles clenching the door handle ready to jump out, the fact that I had my legs in the most awkward looking pretzel imaginable and my face a bright purple from thinking that if I hold my breath, I won't have to pee as bad. All he could think about was food. He was just hungry and wanted to know where I wanted to eat. Did I really look like it mattered? With the look I shot him from my bulging eyes, he decided this was a decision to make on his own. And he did. And he made the wrong one. He chose a fast food place which I could live with. In fact, I love that particular place. However, his deadly mistake is saying that he would rather eat there than at the other fast food place that we both love that is 5 minutes closer than driving across town to the other. I nearly started crying when we passed the first restaurant.

Within the five minutes between food destinations, it hit me. How was I supposed to walk? One leg was numb, one had a major cramp, and I was realizing my feet were dead asleep. Images of face planting in the parking lot were floating through my head. "At least if I fall in a puddle I can say that that is why my pants are wet." Finally through our dirty windshield that had turned a 30 minute short drive into a nearly hour drive, I saw that heavenly glow of that fast food restaurant sign. The car had barely pulled in the spot before I was barreling out. I held as tightly to that door as I could waddling like a penguin. [my black pants and grey sweater did nothing to dispel that thought] Twenty yards. That was all I had to do. If I could open the door.

WHY OH WHY do "Push" and "Pull" start with the same letter. Don't you know that when you have liquid on your brain you can't think very well!? The women at the counter, 3 or 4, all were staring. I'm sure I was quite a sight. Wet from the rain, legs clenced so tightly my knees were touching and every footfall was that of a giants because until I heard my foot hit the ground I had no way of actually telling if I was touching anything other than burning hot nails shooting through my foot. Finally, I could see the glorious picture of that stick figure woman wearing a very unflattering dress. But wait, what is that I see? Please, no. An orange cone. I didn't have time to find out what it was for I just burst into that bathroom and headed straight for a stall. I didn't even have time to register the fact that I had just waddled past a woman with one hand down her shirt and one brushing her hair. I let out an audible sigh and just wanted to cry.

The relief was nothing I could have ever imagined. Then I heard another woman waddle in. She had had to pee just as badly as I had. Suddenly I was feeling not so bad about myself. That is until she walked out and I saw that she is very much pregnant. At least she had an excuse. Or at least a better excuse than "I drank so much water that my bladder decided to go on strike and try to kill me".

And then the thought hit me, "I better memorize every gas station on the map before we go on trips. Especially for when I am pregnant or else that Japanese family is going to get an even bigger eyeful than before."

At least my husband still loves me. Probably.