Giggle Incontinence

At the start of every year, we hold interviews with our new students’ parents to find out their hopes, goals, and concerns about their child. It’s always informative, and my favorite part is watching their eyes light up as we say: “Tell us about your child.”

“She’s just, the best kid,” I remember one mom said, her voice breaking and her eyes starting to water. “I don’t know why I’m crying!!” And we all laughed.

At one of our interviews this year, a student’s mom told us in a thick French accent that her daughter has “giggle incontinence.” At first, we thought she meant that her daughter sometimes just laughed uncontrollably, but then she mentioned the change of clothes her daughter would be bringing to school in case it happened.

“Wait, that has a name?” Kim blurted.

“Oh my god, I have that, too!” I exclaimed.

It hasn’t happened in a while, but it’s something that I’ve experienced since I was a little girl. It usually occurs amidst uncontrollable and nervous laughter — a sudden need to pee, the loss of the ability to hold it in as I continue laughing, and then a heat in my face and pure terror as it rushes out.

I always just thought I was someone who “peed her pants” at the most inopportune moments. But I much prefer the term “giggle incontinence.”

Yesterday (or I guess, two days ago, since I am writing my slices and scheduling them for the following morning), I almost had an episode of said giggle incontinence.

We were on the school bus, getting ready to head off on a field trip with fourth grade, when screams erupted from the back: “Ms. Amy!! There’s a cockroach!”

I’ll let you read the full story in Gianna’s slice, while I zoom into a small moment.

After I returned to my seat, thinking said roach was done and dealt with, Gi sanitized my hands and we sat down.

“Qué asco,” Gi said in that way she does that I love so much. Then she turned to the window, and we watched a small roach crawl up the wall and under the sill.

She immediately squealed and stood up, her hand covering her face to try to hide her fear as the students around us shouted “What? What??”

“Nononono,” she started repeating as she made to, what? Leave the bus??

Because that was the problem. We were stuck on this bus, and our journey had barely even begun.

I looked at her and I looked back at my students with their huge eyes filled with pure horror, and I lost it. I started cracking up.

Gi started laughing too. Tears streamed from our eyes. The teachers at the front looked confused, screams were ricocheting from all sides, Gi was up against me as though I could save her from the roaches, and that’s when I felt it — the moment of the giggle incontinence threatening.

Oh shit.

I took a deep breath in, crossed my legs, and willed myself not to freaking piss my pants while on a school bus full of my preteen students, the fourth graders, and 5 other teachers!!! PLEASE, bladder, don’t do this to me. Haven’t you embarrassed me enough? Wasn’t Lara’s birthday torture enough? The Great Gatsby skit in 8th grade, Ms. Mansell’s knowing look? The bar in Madrid where my coworker bit into a too-hot croqueta and turned bright red as he went “Haa! Haa! Haa!”? PLEASE, BLADDER, NOT TODAY!!

By some miracle, I was able to calm myself enough that my bladder backed off in retreat. The moment passed. My face cooled off and I could breathe again.

I continued to laugh-cry for the rest of the wild ride, even shouted to the students at one point, “This is a small moment story!! You can write about this!”

Mostly I was glad that I was sharing this crazy experience with one of my best friends, because I knew that even if I had experienced an episode of giggle incontinence, somehow, she would have helped make it okay.