I know I’ve spoken of it before - the share it all, bare it all nature of pregnancy, delivery, and apparently raising children is so completely against the natural order of my brain. I can to this day change into a swimming suit without revealing scandalous amounts of skin. I never was one to share a bathroom stall with girlfriends. Heck, I wake up early on vacation to put make up on before everyone else wakes up. I put make up on when I’m sick... I’m all about hiding the messier parts of life, which is why I am completely and absolutely flummoxed by the parade of children that follow me into the bathroom each day.
“Where you going?”
“Mommy has to go potty, I’ll be right back”.
“I’ll come too...”
UH... okay... scrabble can wait.
And so it was that today I found myself in the downstairs powder room, a little bigger than a locker, elbow to elbow and knee to knee with 3 of my four children, trying to finish what my 3 cups of morning coffee had started.
Mom, if you’re reading this I know that you are rolling your eyes and shaking your head at the irony... Or raising your hands towards heaven and thanking God for the blissful joy of paybacks. Looking on it now I’d like to apologize for all the times that your four children gave up your locale just to get a question answered or paper signed... “Where’s mom?” “Bathroom” “Okay”... and we’d pass in the hallway on our way to your door. I’m laughing at the memory of your face as you long sufferingly, but at pleasantly as you could muster, set aside your book for what was probably the 4th time in 10 minutes, raised an eyebrow and casually said “turn on the vent if you’re staying here”. AH, good times, good times... I won’t detail the times we interrupted what I’m sure was supposed to be a peaceful evening soak in the tub, but your modesty moves there were pretty damn hysterical too.
Nothing is sacred in motherhood. Nothing. Tony and I joke all the time that their are no leisurely poo’s in parenting.
So back to my potty party... Though I tried to convince them to play somewhere else, anywhere else, they all deemed this to be the coolest area in the home. So I switched off the scrabble app and clicked on the camera (what else is your smart phone for if not to record this momentous occasion?) and snapped these pics. To embarrass them all later of course. At one point, in an effort to keep the boys out of the trash can, I tore of pieces of toilet paper for them to presumably rip to shreds. Cleaning up a million little pieces of paper seemed preferable to a run to urgent care if they got into the contents under the sink... or having Emma try to resuscitate me should one of the boys pick up and lick the toilet brush. Imagine my surprise when both boys bunched the paper up in their little hands and came right at me to help wipe. Frankly, I’m surprised any of these pictures turned out at all, as I was laughing so hard. Laughing, trying to squirm away, finish my business, and take a picture all at the same time.
Now that’s dedication!