You Have the Right to...Well, Nothing Actually.
Before I was a parent there were so many things I never knew were invaluable privileges rather than rights. For example, picking music in my own car. You would think that having to actually do the driving I would get control of our audio ambience, right? But alas, no. Enter again Choo-choo Soul, or Christmas music (yes, year round, and always "Up on the Housetop by The Jackson 5...don't ask), or the Imagination Movers, or some such toddler fodder that may be educational but sometimes makes Mommy want to steer us into oncoming traffic.
Another privilege? Eating the meal I order in a restaurant. Or anywhere, for that matter. Because sure, I will let my kids pick whatever they want to eat. I will let them order for themselves, because I feel like it fosters independence and self confidence. And when our food arrives I will watch them take two bites of whatever they have ordered and then suddenly turn their focus to mine. And devour it in front of me gradually through the tactic of "oh Mommy, that looks so yummy, can I have just one more bite?" or "see Mommy, you were right, sharing IS nice!"
Oh, you practical thinker you, I know exactly what you're going to say. Just order two of whatever I'm having, right? YOU ARE MISSING THE POINT IN IT'S ENTIRETY, AND JUST SUGGESTING THIS MAKES ME KNOW YOU HAVE NO CHILDREN! The point is they want what's mine. Mine and mine alone. So you say I should give them mine and just take the extra plate right? You are so smart, why didn't I think of that? Because then they will eat off both. And seriously, as liberal as I am I'm getting a wee bit tired of the communal eating experience. I'd like to have a plate that doesn't have the bite that my son thought was shredded cheese but then discovered was shredded carrot and spit back on the plate for me. The plate they didn't accidentally spill "just a little bit" of chocolate milk on which "makes it really yummy!" You know, that plate.
But these things, they are minor irritations. What I really miss, to the depths of my very soul, is being able to use the bathroom alone. Every mother reading this right now has just nodded her head. Depending on how old your kids are you are either giggling a little because you get to go by yourself now, or you are silently wiping a little tear away because you know my horror. But I'm going to vent about it anyhow.
I'm not trying to be gross. It isn't just using the toilet. I miss all aspects of solo bathroom enjoyment. I miss doing my makeup without them in there. I miss bathing without them in there. Truly, the only time they magically disappear from the bathroom is when it is necessary to pick up the piles of muddy laundry and bath toys they have flung to the side while streaking naked and soaking wet from the bathroom following the forced, torturous, mandatory evening bath.
And because once I knew privacy, it is that much more degrading to have to answer the lines of questioning. "But why do girls wear makeup and not boys?" "Well, then what to boys get to do that girls can't?" "That's not true mommy, when we go to restaurants Auntie doesn't sit down to pee pee either..." (sorry auntie, you knew you'd be outed eventually). "How do the germs get on the seat there?" "Oh gross mom, girls SIT on that even with the germs there?"
Or "but how long will you be, because I need you to get me a drink?" "Really just a minute, really?" "Wait, are you going pee or poo?" "I just want to know is all, because you said just a minute but if you aren't going pee..."
But the all time classic is when I attempt to shower in peace. This has been the source of some very early anatomy lessons. And yes, for all of you judging me right now, I DO have locks on my door. And I DID try that. But then I had to weigh the benefit of them being outside the bathroom while actually lying against the door kicking it and sobbing hysterically for the entirety of my stay, or just answering the questions when they float in and out. And since one tends to puke if he cries too hard, guess what I opted for?
As of late, however, it's been getting a little better. We have explained the idea of privacy and "private parts" and are able to generally herd them out of the bathroom with minimal complication and just a couple of reminders (it has, however, led to my five year old referring to his genitalia as "the private" which I'm sure I'll have to explain in time). And so yesterday I stepped in to steaming hot water prepping for a very long, busy day to enjoy a few minutes of Mommy time. And folks, it was so quiet I was dozing a little standing up. It was beautiful. No questions to answer, no fights to break up, just a hot shower. Which is why I was so shocked when I suddenly started having what I was positive was a seizure, or stroke, or possible the Rapture. Because all of the sudden the floor outside the shower started flashing bright lights in the incredibly quiet bathroom.
I was prepped to panic, because I really don't want to meet paramedics in the buff. The panic actually commenced when the sirens started and I thought "Oh no, it wasn't dozing! I actually had some kind of episode and rescue personnel have been summoned and we work with all of them and I'm NAKEY! NAKEY LORD! Don't let them see me this way, it happened before I could shave!"
It's funny how quiet kids can be when they know they are supposed to be respecting your privacy. I didn't hear the door open and close. I didn't hear the three year old crawl in to lie outside the tub waiting for me. But I sure as hell heard the damn police car toy with working flashing lights and sirens that one of the cop's friends thought he just "had to have" last Christmas.
I'm rethinking the privacy thing folks. Because at least when they're loud I have the warning instead of the panic attack.
Another privilege? Eating the meal I order in a restaurant. Or anywhere, for that matter. Because sure, I will let my kids pick whatever they want to eat. I will let them order for themselves, because I feel like it fosters independence and self confidence. And when our food arrives I will watch them take two bites of whatever they have ordered and then suddenly turn their focus to mine. And devour it in front of me gradually through the tactic of "oh Mommy, that looks so yummy, can I have just one more bite?" or "see Mommy, you were right, sharing IS nice!"
Oh, you practical thinker you, I know exactly what you're going to say. Just order two of whatever I'm having, right? YOU ARE MISSING THE POINT IN IT'S ENTIRETY, AND JUST SUGGESTING THIS MAKES ME KNOW YOU HAVE NO CHILDREN! The point is they want what's mine. Mine and mine alone. So you say I should give them mine and just take the extra plate right? You are so smart, why didn't I think of that? Because then they will eat off both. And seriously, as liberal as I am I'm getting a wee bit tired of the communal eating experience. I'd like to have a plate that doesn't have the bite that my son thought was shredded cheese but then discovered was shredded carrot and spit back on the plate for me. The plate they didn't accidentally spill "just a little bit" of chocolate milk on which "makes it really yummy!" You know, that plate.
But these things, they are minor irritations. What I really miss, to the depths of my very soul, is being able to use the bathroom alone. Every mother reading this right now has just nodded her head. Depending on how old your kids are you are either giggling a little because you get to go by yourself now, or you are silently wiping a little tear away because you know my horror. But I'm going to vent about it anyhow.
I'm not trying to be gross. It isn't just using the toilet. I miss all aspects of solo bathroom enjoyment. I miss doing my makeup without them in there. I miss bathing without them in there. Truly, the only time they magically disappear from the bathroom is when it is necessary to pick up the piles of muddy laundry and bath toys they have flung to the side while streaking naked and soaking wet from the bathroom following the forced, torturous, mandatory evening bath.
And because once I knew privacy, it is that much more degrading to have to answer the lines of questioning. "But why do girls wear makeup and not boys?" "Well, then what to boys get to do that girls can't?" "That's not true mommy, when we go to restaurants Auntie doesn't sit down to pee pee either..." (sorry auntie, you knew you'd be outed eventually). "How do the germs get on the seat there?" "Oh gross mom, girls SIT on that even with the germs there?"
Or "but how long will you be, because I need you to get me a drink?" "Really just a minute, really?" "Wait, are you going pee or poo?" "I just want to know is all, because you said just a minute but if you aren't going pee..."
But the all time classic is when I attempt to shower in peace. This has been the source of some very early anatomy lessons. And yes, for all of you judging me right now, I DO have locks on my door. And I DID try that. But then I had to weigh the benefit of them being outside the bathroom while actually lying against the door kicking it and sobbing hysterically for the entirety of my stay, or just answering the questions when they float in and out. And since one tends to puke if he cries too hard, guess what I opted for?
As of late, however, it's been getting a little better. We have explained the idea of privacy and "private parts" and are able to generally herd them out of the bathroom with minimal complication and just a couple of reminders (it has, however, led to my five year old referring to his genitalia as "the private" which I'm sure I'll have to explain in time). And so yesterday I stepped in to steaming hot water prepping for a very long, busy day to enjoy a few minutes of Mommy time. And folks, it was so quiet I was dozing a little standing up. It was beautiful. No questions to answer, no fights to break up, just a hot shower. Which is why I was so shocked when I suddenly started having what I was positive was a seizure, or stroke, or possible the Rapture. Because all of the sudden the floor outside the shower started flashing bright lights in the incredibly quiet bathroom.
I was prepped to panic, because I really don't want to meet paramedics in the buff. The panic actually commenced when the sirens started and I thought "Oh no, it wasn't dozing! I actually had some kind of episode and rescue personnel have been summoned and we work with all of them and I'm NAKEY! NAKEY LORD! Don't let them see me this way, it happened before I could shave!"
It's funny how quiet kids can be when they know they are supposed to be respecting your privacy. I didn't hear the door open and close. I didn't hear the three year old crawl in to lie outside the tub waiting for me. But I sure as hell heard the damn police car toy with working flashing lights and sirens that one of the cop's friends thought he just "had to have" last Christmas.
I'm rethinking the privacy thing folks. Because at least when they're loud I have the warning instead of the panic attack.
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