You know that old quote, "of all the things I’ve lost, it’s my mind I miss the most"? I sort of feel like that since becoming a mother, except it’s not so much the lost mind that bothers me. After all, I do still have my mind; it just happens to be a little more frazzled and sleep deprived than it was pre-children, and it occasionally short circuits and starts playing loops of the "Max and Ruby" theme song, but it’s there.
What I miss the most, truly and deeply, is the bathroom.
Oh, of course, like my mind, my bathroom is still there. It’s just never empty. I can’t have any peace in there. Ever. Even if I wake up at 3 a.m., army crawl down the hall, slip inside and tiptoe to the toilet, there’s a 95% chance that my youngest will immediately wake up crying.
You know how sometimes women will fantasize about some really good looking actor, or perhaps the FBI profiler character that he plays on a primetime television show, imagining that character saving her at the last second from some kind of psycho and then he whisks her off to a tropical island for a week of total hedonistic … Oh, sorry. Lost my train of thought. Anyway. That’s what some women fantasize about. Others fantasize about being able to go out without packing up a diaper bag and a small country’s worth in toys.
I fantasize about being able to go in the bathroom. Alone. All alone. I fantasize about stretching out in a hot bubble bath, or brushing my teeth, or putting my makeup on, or even just sitting down and letting my mind wander while I pee. In my mind, I do all these things without interruptions or hindrances. It is soothing and relaxing, and wonderful. It’s like my own little Club Med in there.
The reality is so very different. The reality is that I haven’t had a bath in well over a year and my showers involve singing Barney’s "I love you, you frickin’ love me" song and sacrificing shaving my legs in favor of finishing up before my one-year-old decides to put all the rubber ducks in the toilet. The reality is that when I’m putting my contacts in, I’m often running out of the bathroom with one lens in and one still balanced on my finger tip so that I can chase the one-year-old who has just taken off with a toothbrush in her mouth and a roll of toilet paper in her hands. The reality is that if I’m taking the time to put make-up on, I also have to explain to my four-year-old that no, she can not wear bright red lipstick to the store as I pry the tube out of her fingers. The reality is that as soon as I sit down for just two minutes on the toilet, she will also decide this makes me the perfect captive audience and will pepper me with questions that are shot of her mouth like so much machine gun fire.
Today I reached a whole new level of bathroom antics by being forced to draw pictures on the magna doodle for my younger one. I had little choice; I had been perched on the toilet seat for less than three seconds when she waddled up to me and plopped the magna doodle in my lap, practically shoving the pen for it up my left nostril as she waved it in my face while imploring me with a "guuh abba uhnn!"
Who knew I could empty my bladder and draw a beautiful house at the same time? These are the things you learn when your bathroom has a forced open-door policy.
It’s not like having my husband home offers much more in the way of privacy. Yes, when he gets home I am finally able to close, even lock the door. However, I still get muffled shouted requests from my older daughter, and my younger one likes to stand directly outside and either bang on the door or cry like I’ve left the entire planet, depending on her mood.
Some day I have plans to win the lottery (oh, hush). When I do, my original plan was to make sure we got a house with a very kick-ass kitchen in which I could bake and cook and also have enough counter space to stretch out and nap on it without a toaster getting in my way. At this point, my bathroom time has become so chaotic that I’m willing to drop the kitchen down a notch in my fantasy home in exchange for a private bathroom in a secret, hidden bunker below the house with no fewer than five deadbolt locks, soundproof walls, and an access panel that requires a magnetic card, voice recognition, and retinal scan.
They’d probably still find a way.
Sherry is an urbanmoms.ca member, mom, and a blogger in her own right! (Not necessarily in that order). Be sure to leave her a comment below, and visit her at her blog Chaos Theory.
I can relate and my kid is in his teens!
Why is it the moment you sit down to pee the kid calls you or the phone rings or the dog starts barking at gosh knows what?
Never fails.
I know EXACTLY how that is. Every time I try to sneak away for a quick relief my 3 year old follows me, wants to know what I’m going to do and why can’t I keep the door open?! After having my second child, I was home a few days & I told my husband I’m going to take a long shower. I locked the door and savoured every minute of that long shower, knowing it would be the last of its kind for a long, long time.
Oh yes! I have actually peed while nursing or with a sleeping baby in my arms and a toddler in my lap! It is pretty impressive what a mom can do when necessary 😉
My big beef is that my husband can go in the bathroom and READ THE PAPER without a single interuption…this is just NOT FAIR.
I have been known to bribe my children with TV and junk food to get 10 minutes in the tub. Shame.
LOL! Just yesterday I called to my husband, “You have to see this!” I was sitting on the toilet. My baby was holding my leg while she drank her bottle. My 3-year-old was sitting at my feet singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and my 6-year-old was reading to me from “Best Friends wear Pink Tutus”. I have no idea how all four of us fit in that little powder room!