The Diapered Story of Robin Smith
The sound of Jawas fills the cab of my car making me smile.
Allen told me they were haggling over scrap on Tatooine, but I had no clue. Don’t get me wrong, I love those movies, but nothing like my husband does. Clearly, he has been messing with my phone again.
“Ok Google, Read New Text.” I tell the dead air in my car while rolling my eyes at my nerdy husband’s antics.
“You have one new text from Allen at five thirty-two PM. Do you want to hear it?”
“Yes.” I tell my phone.
The female computerized voice reads back my husband’s text. It is an odd juxtaposition listening to his words and imagining his face to the female’s jilting voice.
Google reads, “Shit hone. That ducks. You don’t have a lot of options there.”
Autocorrect hates him. It always makes me giggle while I try to interpret what he’s going on about. I get tired of dictating to my phone and pick it up directly. Normally, I’d wait and talk slowly through the menu’s to send a reply, but it wasn’t dangerous just sitting here. I’m not about to text and drive. That shit is dangerous!
I text him back.
[Me:] Radio says there’s a tractor trailer rig overturned. I’m locked in. I can’t stop bouncing my legs. I gotta pee so freaking bad! At least Molly’s sleeping through it. Thank god for pool day.
(our own code – In The House)
[Me:] You never beat me home!
(Yeah, I’m whining at this point.)
[Me:] I don’t know what to do! If I pee my pants, the leather will be fine but the carpet…
[Allen:] You can’t do anything about it babe. Don’t hurt yourself. I’ll have the car cleaned.
[Me:] You’d use Bill though! We KNOW them!
[Allen:] You have a leaky 3.5 year old in the car. They won’t know who it was.
[Me:] Still, I’d know…
[Allen:] Getting in the shower. Text me when you finally break free.
I sit there looking around at an utter loss. Molly’s daycare is only fifteen minutes away from the house on the interstate. I had come up on the wreck just after I picked up my daughter. I was still a mile away if the radio report was correct. I was locked in and at a full stop before I knew what had happened.
No matter which direction I look, all I can see are cars. Worse, I’m on an inside lane and can’t even off-road through the median! I’m stuck tight, and my bladder isn’t happy about it. In fact, it feels like it’s going to be downright rebellious.
The tide is changing and I began to lose the fight with lactic acid and muscle fatigue. I shouldn’t have left the house without peeing first, but I thought I’d be home in thirty minutes! Turns out that was a bad decision, one that was biting me in the ass. The muscles between my legs twinge. I’m long past the pain stages.
In fact, everything that I’ve been clinching is numb. I smack at my knees trying to get some feeling back into my legs and to distract myself from the numbness and the impending disaster. I start singing along to the radio at the top of my lungs. That distraction doesn’t work either.
Molls, just keep sleeping baby. Mommy can’t handle peeing herself in front of you. I thought dreading the implications that seeing me wet myself would have on my daughter.
Allen said I could blame the mess on my little Molls, but that doesn’t feel right either. I need a solution.
Spontaneously, a really crazy thought burns brightly in my head. I snap a picture of my hand coming out of my daughters diaper bag and send it to my husband before breaking out into a feverish flurry of activity. I turn up the radio to keep all my wiggling from waking up Molly.
I can’t believe I’m about to do this…
I can’t believe I’m doing this…
I can’t believe I did that…
I get home at fifteen after six, which is far later than I normally pull up. I’m super not thrilled about it either!
Traffic was a bitch even after I FINALLY got past the wreck. I’m not sure how my half day of working from home turned into eight full hours of work, or how easing back into fulltime turned into such a stressful day. The lousy drive home from picking up Molly was the icing on my crap cake. I am very anxious to get my daughter in the house and try to find a way to process this situation.
I need a fix of my man! I need to cuddle up to him and watch some TV, and maybe drink a glass of wine. I stand up stretching my back and lean against my car. I take a breath then reach in and grab all our stuff. Lastly, I shoulder our diaper bag popping open Molly’s door.
I wake her up with sweet words. Molly takes my hand grabbing my fingers tightly and we make our way to the house. I have an unbalanced load for sure, and it’s leaning heavily to my diaper bag side. Waddling around didn’t make it anything graceful let me tell you!
Thank God she’s walking now. I’d be done in if I had to carry her too. I wouldn’t have had the strength. My little Doodlebug is too big for me to haul her around on my hip anymore. I think sadly.
She toddles beside me into the house. She doesn’t quite wake up either. She sways on her feet still groggy shambling like a zombie. I smile entering my house. It is simply thrilling to be home, it smells like safety and relaxation.
Today, it seems like a major accomplishment just to get here. It had seemed impossible only thirty minutes ago. My little angel and I had been stuck for more than an hour behind that overturned tractor trailer less than ten miles from our house!
I drop everything on the couch leaving Molly just inside our front door. She sways on her feet trying to wake up, but with little success. My attitude went from relief to anger in a heartbeat wanting to get out of my work clothes and Allen nowhere to be found.
“Allen.” I bellow stress lining my voice.
Seriously, he should be here! He knew I’d be coming in in a hurry.
“Hey, Rob. Glad my girls…” He inhaled sharply seeing my face. “I take it you’re both wet?”, he chuckles.
The balls on this man!
“Funny aren’t ya!” I growl. “Just take her will you. I’d like to get cleaned up.” I shoot him my best grouchy face, and let me tell you it can melt the paint off the walls!
“Are you still wearing it? I mean did it fit?” My devoted husband stutters with an odd air about him. It’s almost seems like he is excited and it’s overriding his sense of self-preservation.
I blushed instantly losing my bluster, “Ya to both. I mean I need to go freshen up, and I’m sure Molly would like a fresh diaper.”
“Show me.” He insists not moving an inch after taking Molly’s sleepy little hand.
“What! No. It’s bad enough I’m wearing it and its freaking wet! I’m not going to be showing this thing off. I’m supposed to be sexy to you, not some kind of screw-up.” I gasp.
“I’m going to be honest here. Those do nothing for me on Molly, but I’ve been messed up thinking about it since you texted me that picture of her diaper. I wasn’t sure if you’d use it. I can’t believe it fit.” Allen confesses.
“I couldn’t either. I mean it’s a stretch, but our Doodlebug isn’t very little. In fact, I probably shouldn’t really carry her around anymore. She doesn’t need to see this.” I ramble not so stealthily to divert his attention. I say anything trying to distract him with my moment of nostalgia from earlier.
I’m super embarrassed about my situation, but at only twenty-four, I am still very interested in keeping my husband turned on. Getting him excited gets me that way too. Most of the time it would be a win-win situation, but this isn’t one of those times.
But, the look on Allen’s face gives me pause.
My excuse to be out of this thing was that it wouldn’t be attractive, but is it. Is he turned on?
I think about it and decide I am pretty comfortable in one of Molly’s diapers, even though it was a little soggy and was pulling tightly at my hips. He clearly wants to see it.
If it turns him on… Wearing it doesn’t cost me anything but some embarrassment.
“Show me, babe.” Allen interrupts my thoughts prompting me a second time.
“Pick her up first.” I instruct and he complies.
Almost on auto-pilot, I kick off my heels and slide out of my slacks. I drop my boy-short style panties which leaves me in my blouse and Molly’s size five Luvs diaper. It’s a startling contrast, half a business outfit and half a toddler’s.
I try to pull together some sexy thoughts so I can model the diaper for him. I end up laughing instead. Allen laughs too. His laughing caught our little Doodlebug’s attention causing her to wake up from her shoulder nap. She looks around for a moment to see what all the laughter is about.
“Mommy, it’s ok. That’s what diapers are for. You’ll make it next time.” She tells me full of love and support.