Today began as ordinarily as any other. My son woke me up by lifting the blinds that keep the bright tropical sun from streaming into my bedroom at 6:15am. My husband is training again so his schedule is unpredictable and therefore the care of our children falls solely to me. Not something I'm unfamiliar with so getting into the swing of things is easy.
I begged my son for a few more minutes and sent him downstairs to watch cartoons. He's independent enough at this point to grab a banana and some cereal while I wash my face and brush my teeth, and get the baby out of bed.
I plodded down the stairs with the baby to make my coffee and pack my son his lunch. In that order. Coffee comes first. When my husband's schedule is like this I don't sleep very well so coffee is the elixir of life that allows me to pry my eyeballs open enough to drive my son to school. I was standing in front of the coffee pot with my giant mug in hand literally vibrating. The second the pot beeped it's "I'M DONE!" beep I was pouring the steaming liquid into my cup accompanied by my sugar free French Vanilla creamer. Now its unfortunate that my cups of coffee are not bottomless because some mornings, I sure wish they would be. This morning was one of those. I had 3 cups.
After all was said and done, we dashed out the door at 8:15. Traffic on the 23 is touch and go at this time of the morning and the drive can take 15-25 minutes depending. But this morning I had a plan. I was going to drop my son off at school and then head down the the running trail along the beach. It's been probably 2 months since I've run and I was looking forward to it. I didn't care how long the drive to school took. I'd get there.
I dropped off my son and drove excitedly toward the running trail. No sooner had I pulled into the parking lot than my stomach committed mutiny on my well laid plans. I have a veeeeerrrryyyyy sensitive stomach. If I get nervous, excited, scared, etc, my stomach is where all the tension goes.
GGRRAAAOOOOWWWWWMMMMMMMB! My guts are rolling. Nerves? I think I'm ok. I know I haven't run in a while but really? My guts drop into my butt. I'm standing by my trunk getting my jogging stroller out of the car. I can't believe this is happening. I turn to look at the day. Not a cloud in the sky, slightly humid, but cooler than it's been, the path is practically empty, and the ocean is a shimmering, crystal blue. Then I remember. 3, thats 3 cups of coffee.
BRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTOOOOOOOWWWWWW!!!!! OMG! I glance around in a panic. I need a bathroom like NOW. But alas, there are no bathrooms to be had, not that I really care for the squattie potties that are the norm around here, and I don't have the time to walk around and search for one. I make the quick decision to get back into my car and head for home. It's a fairly short drive. . .
Not a good plan. I spent 30 minutes in traffic trying to get back onto the military base where we live. I'd forgotten that the gate closest to where I was located is always a zoo at this time of day. I was speeding north on the 58 because the maximum speed limit is 60 kilometers per hour. That calculates out to about 37.28 mph. I was going 80 kph. I had not spotted 1 public restroom along the way. Speeding off base is BAD. If you're caught it's expensive and you can lose your license for anywhere from 7 days to 3 months depending on how fast you're going. I was going 20 over. Not good.
I began to contemplate what I would say to the Okinawan police officer should I get stopped. . . How in the hell do you say, I am going to poop in my pants! in Japanese?!?! I have no idea where to even begin, and since I'm driving so fast I most definitely cannot google it at this particular juncture. I am seriously considering putting on one of my daughter's diapers. I am close to tears because my body is so full that something has to come out somewhere and I'd rather it come out my eyes than, well, you know. . .
I make it to the gate. I'm in line. There is only 1 lane open. WHAT?? ONE M$%@&R-F%$@#$!G lane open?!?!?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I am the 12th car in line, and we're not moving. . . I still have to make it to the other side of base where my house is. I absolutely can not speed on base. I already have one ticket and crapping in my pants would be FAR better than what my husband would do to me if I got another. Well at least I don't have to worry about explaining what is going on to a Japanese cop. And I am pretty sure that the military police have heard every excuse in the book and would not be sympathetic unless I actually did shit in my running shorts.
To spare you the remaining details, I made it home poop-in-pants free. But this is the second time I've been frustrated by the language barrier. Oh, and by the way, Watashi Wa Watashi No Zubon Ni Un Chi Suru Tsumoridesu, means - I am going to poop in my pants - in Japanese.