No Time to Pee

No Time to Pee
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Okay, raise of hands, who will admit that they wait until their significant other is home from work so they can poop in privacy?

How many of us dutifully fill our water bottles with the daily recommended 64oz only to completely avoid hydrating during the day because you dread being trailed by an entourage every time the urge to pee strikes.

Now, just the mommies? How many would admit that if changing your pad/tampon were an Olympic sport, the speed of which you make the change would qualify you for a Silver, maybe even a Gold?

I certainly did not experience these issues when I was a working mom in the corporate world. Sure, there were some similarities: you couldn’t always pee when you wanted, pooping was held off until you got home, and your lunch break was a frenzy of eating with one hand, responding to personal texts and voice-mails with the other hand, and potty time was an exercise in speed and efficiency, not unlike the small, oh so tiny, window of me time when you finally get all the kids asleep for nap-time.

Recently, working from home, and caring for other children as well as my own, pooping and peeing has entered a new level of potty hell. Not only do I have my own children screaming with a heart-stopping intensity of a horror movie actress, “MOMMY!” when they realize I am not in their immediate presence, but I also have 2-3 other toddlers wanting to know where that woman with the yummy Goldfish crackers has gone.

Most parents have the experience of dragging their diaper-clad little one into the bathroom. We all are under this illusion that if they watch us on a potty that they will suddenly be overwhelmed with the urge to tear-off their diaper and poop on the potty, too. It is all fine and dandy the first and second years, but sometime around age three or so, it becomes this creepy little voyeuristic adventure where their eyes follow every motion, movement, and wipe. And, that’s when your sudden desire for privacy kicks in -- sure, you have been walking around them naked since birth, popping out the boobies when they are hungry, showering with them when there are just not enough wipes to clean up that poop explosion, occasionally catching mommy and daddy in an embrace -- but the pooping and peeing sightseeing ride is shrieking to a halt.

These days…*cue the Mission Impossible theme music* is all cloak and daggers. “Hey, kids! Look at that large pile of Goldfish over there!”, “I think I hear someone knocking at the front door?”, “Who wants to watch Frozen?”.

These distractions will usually give me 30 seconds on the clock -- and I make it work with a little determination and a lot of mental preparedness -- and double-checking to ensure the path is clear of Legos.

Do I cut corners? Sure! I leave the bathroom door open for ease of entry and exiting. I wash my hands in the kitchen sink where I can oversee the children noshing on the last few Goldfish like zombies grasping at entrails of a fresh body. I don’t wear pants that require a belt.

In and out of the bathroom. Thirty seconds or less. Who knew parenthood would make potty time such an adventure?

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