Oh man. This is just another of the ways that I admire you Matey. You are patient and capable and have a steel clad pelvic floor. I do not have a pelvic floor made of steel. I have a pelvic floor made of something like jersey. All it takes for me to urgently need to go to the toilet is for me to hear someone mention needing to go to the toilet, walk past a fire hydrant that's a bit leaky or get to my front door. Within seconds of any of these things, I'm busting and there is no way the demands of daily life could stop that urge.
I actually have this really strong memory from when I was little that relates to the toilet and the demands of being a mother. I remember being about 5 or 6 or something and having a conversation with my Mum. I don't remember the details of the conversation but I suspect it was something to do with my Care Bear. So it was pretty interesting. Anyway, I was following Mum around the house as she was doing this and that, talking about my business. All of sudden I found myself standing outside a closed bathroom door, with Mum on the other side. I obviously felt that I still had some points to make so I just opened the door and walked in on Mum on the toilet. No doubt this had happened millions of times before, but this time, for the first time, Mum plead with me to leave her alone and wait until she was finished on the toilet. Frankly, I was shocked. I thought I was pretty much her favourite person and whatever I had to say, she wanted to hear it, no matter what else she was doing. Turns out most of that time she was probably just desperate for privacy and really needed to wee.
And given that I am the youngest of her children, this situation probably persisted for about a decade.
I'm so sorry, Mum
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