Bathroom Breaks Are Not Spectator Sports

There’s this stereotype that women always have to go to the bathroom in groups.  And since I am a woman and go out with my friends, I can say that it is at least partly true.  But personally, I don’t get it.  I prefer to pee in private.  Thanks.  But then, I’m not your average woman (according to my husband), since I also only own two cheap purses and despise shoe shopping.  So maybe I don’t have the right perspective.

My daughters do, though.  Insist on peeing in packs, I mean.  They don’t like to go alone.  They usually have to go WITH someone.  Preferably me.  I don’t know why I need to observe them pee.  They can’t explain it.

I have told them many times that they do not need my permission.  This is not Shawshank prison.  Just GO PEE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.  Especially when Mommy is, oh, I don’t know, up to her elbows in dishwater?  In the middle of cooking dinner?  Etc?

But yesterday, my friends, brought a whole new perspective to this.

To totally get this story, you have to somewhat get the layout of my house.  Not enough to break in and take my shit, just enough to know what I’m talking about.  Because a lot of our rooms branch off this weird hallway/annex type thingy, I give to you this highly technical drawing:

Crappy paint wouldn’t let me put crappy text boxes in so I had to label it in crappy writing.

Yes, our children sleep downstairs and we sleep upstairs.  Yes, we have a security system so they do not get carried away in the night.  And yes, I read an article that said that burglars never look in kids’ rooms.  Since my children have taken over every room our house, and turned them into kids’ rooms, we’re safe. Also-yes we have a kitchen (not pictured.)

Anyways.  Sunday morning, Ashlynn comes to wake me up for the day and tells me she has to go potty.  I mutter something unintelligible and told her to go down and go, I was getting up.  Five seconds later I hear her crying.  She peed on the floor at the top of the steps.  Do you understand?!  She had to walk directly past the bathroom to get upstairs to tell me she had to pee. Helpful diagram #2:

Those black things are her footprints. Or something. Also I added the pee.

Seriously.  A detour of about five seconds could have solved this problem.  But.  But! But wait.  I am not even done yet.

Sunday evening rolls around and the children are in bed sleeping and the Food Network is trucking along on our TV when Corinne comes flying out of her room and yells “Can I go potty?!”  We chorus “YES!!”

And she peed on the floor.  In the annex/hall thingy.  Five steps from the bathroom.  I don’t even begin to understand.  Helpful Diagram #3:

Not pictured: clean carpet.

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I Am Going to Join the Circus

Do you know what I’ve noticed? 

I’ve noticed that the majority of my blog referrals come from Facebook. 

I’ve also noticed that when I post a blog to Facebook, the first 30 or so words from my blog appear next to the link.

So, I think I should make the effort to make those first 30 words really electrifying and gripping.  Like, “And then my hair was on fire.”

Except obviously not this time, since I just blew my first 50 words talking about my first 30 words.  So stay tuned!

I have decided that my talents are quite suited for the circus. 

I’m going to be a professional juggler.

Except, you know. I can’t juggle.

PHYSICAL OBJECTS!!

But.  But! BUT…

I can juggle a million other things.  I do it without really thinking, too.  I am an absent-minded juggler.  Wouldn’t you pay millions of dollars or at least a quarter to see an absent-minded juggler?!

I daily juggle motherhood, wifehood, daughterhood, teacherhood, car hoods, sisterhood, bill-payer-hood.  I’m all up in the hood, apparently.

And I could make you a big list of the little things that go into each one of those big things, but that would be boring and I am also not that much of a whiner or attention whore.  Plus if I saw an actual list of this stuff, I would be all overwhelmed and probably just freak the heck out.

This, for example, is my partial grocery list. That woman in the center must be a neighbor that wandered in and got lost. Cuz she sure as hell ain't my secretary!

The good news is that I seem to pulling it all off.  Or give the impression of doing so, anyway.  And instead of being all overwhelmed, I am actually really happy with my busy, crazy life. 

(Well. Usually. I have my moments when I am like OHMYGOD)

(And except for laundry.)

(I hate laundry.)

(But I love parentheses!)

And I seem to be doing okay.  Neither of my children is in therapy.  They actually seem to love me most of the time except when I say “No, you cannot have one more squinkie or mommy will just explode.”

My husband still hangs around and seems to like me.

And I’m getting lots of praise for my teaching.

So I must be doing something right!

Plus, I love to look at the optimistic side of things.  I’m busy and crazy but I’m never bored…and I interact with so many people in a positive way that I have a smile on my face at least 90% of every day.  Who can complain about that?

Look at me juggling happily! Isn't my hair cute? Oh wait, that's not me. I don't have shoes that color. Or lips that big.

 Although I do have to admit that some things may slip through the cracks.  Which may be why I toured the entire Akron Zoo yesterday with my shirt inside out.  You win some, you lose some.