Happy Mother's Day to all the Momma's out there. I hope you get everything you wish for - or atleast a slight moment of guilt free peace, a handmade card, and some kind of breakfast in bed.I have my own wish. I'm certain you'll share in my quest of dreams.
I cannot sit on the throne of grand flushes without being needed. I think the next time I feel I'm not needed anymore, I'm simply going to go to the bathroom and sit. I really don't remember doing this to my mom. I did other things, but not the bathroom interruption gig. I bet she begs to differ...
I realize it's probably bad mommy blogging practice to rant about my own personal bathroom time. But I'm feeling a resounding message here. I'm certain (hoping) I'm not alone in this desperation to have my one reasonable alone time be in the bathroom. There's two things that apparently get my children to pay attention to me: talk on the phone or go to the bathroom.
The other day I was watching an Erma Bombeck video. And as brilliant as she was, I still to this day defend that it's just as hard for Father's out there. If you're a good one. Clearly, I'm married to a good one. Since the day we checked in to the hospital to have the babies, I have witnessed Ricardo be treated as a second-hand parent. It breaks my heart as he is an absolute first-class parent and a hands-on Dad. So, sometimes, I don't think it's fair that "Being a Mom is an unpaid full time job" is a common phrase. The way Ricardo does it, "Being a PARENT/DAD is an unpaid full-time job". He is there 100%, just as much as me. Sometimes more.
That is, until I sit on the porcelain throne. There are only two things in our house that Ricardo is typical man about and I also somewhat resent. Number one - he never answers the phone if it's not for him. Caller i.d. really isn't helping. And number two - pun intended - he can sit on the throne uninterrupted for extremely long uninterrupted periods of time. I'm jealous. I'll admit it.
The other morning, we're doing the routine of getting the kids ready for school. The kids are pretty responsible and taking care of their own thing when I realize I need to make a pit stop. I mentally resolve that I should wait until the kids have left for school. But my body suggests that maybe since the kids are getting themselves ready, they'll stay busy and leave me alone for me to uh, go ahead and make that pit stop now. I oblige said body's request and go up to my own room, in my own bathroom and shut my own door.
Now, I know y'all don't need details. My body as a mother is well-trained in this department. We have no time to stop and sit. So, it's not like this morning segment is an extensive timely adventure is all I'm saying. It may well be the single thing I'm fast and efficient about.
So, of all the times for my kids to need me with something very urgent - well, there's barely enough time for the opportunity for them to even interrupt. And yet...
As soon as I sit, the phone rings. And it rings. And rings. This is part of the morning routine. We all know it's the neighbor kid calling to see if Max and Lucy are walking or riding to school. She calls each day. But today, I am on the pot. Lucy is in her room drying her hair. I have no clue where Max is. I yell to Ricardo - because I know he's assessed the caller i.d. and that it's not for him - "ANSWER THE PHONE PLEASE!"
But it continues to ring. "I. AM. IN.THE.BATHROOM. PLEASE. ANSWER. THE. pause to insert your own descriptive word here PHONE. PLEASE."
I hear Ricardo pick it up, and hang it up - it rang too long and the kid hung up when it went to voicemail. And then he shouts back up at me, "I couldn't get to a phone in time, the one in front of me - it's battery was dead."
Meanwhile, Lucy has shut off her hair dryer. So, from the bathroom, I delegate "Lucy call Jennifer. She just called. You need to call her back and tell her you're walking to school."
"Okay, Mom."
But now she can't find a phone that is charged. Mind you, the child has bounded down the stairs right past her father, grabbed the uncharged phone, and then once she has realized the phone doesn't work, what does she do? She bounds right back up the stairs to me in the bathroom to solve this mystery.
By then I was done with my business, but felt the need to just take a moment and reclaim my interrupted bathroom time. Wash my face. And make my point.
"I AM IN THE BATHROOM."
"But the phone doesn't work."
"Do you think DADDY could probably help you with that!?"
"Oh. I guess so." She replied with a 'Wow, I never thought of that.' tone.
And so be it. Daddy helped her once she asked. Because he's a good dad and 100% hands-on parent.
I've taken time to reflect on how this all happened. It starts when they're young, and you don't want to take your eyes off them. And then, at some point, you're brave enough to shut the door, but their little fingers wiggle under the door, "Mommy, are you in there?" And then I engage in conversation. Perhaps, just maybe, it's my own doing. I've set this precedence.
Today, I noted Max was in the shower and Lucy was drying her hair. I had a good two minutes to myself. Sure enough the hair dryer stopped. Lucy needed to tell me something very important right away. And you know what, I actually caught myself responding, "Well, you can wear your blue butterfly shirt by I don't know where the skirt that matches it...wait. Just wait a second. I. AM. IN. THE. BATHROOM."
She kept talking.
I repeated - an attempt to retrain her...and me..."I.AM.IN.THE.BATHROOM. You'll need to wait a second."
A slight pause on confusion in me claiming my liberation from bathroom officing and then the hair dryer went back on.
It's good to be needed, but I'm going to reclaim my uh, throne. It's a Mother's Day gift to me. Happy Mother's Day, Mom. Just for you, I promise to not interrupt your bathroom time. But only for Mother's Day.
So is it just me, or is this every Mom's dream? All my Momma's out there, give me a shout out. Comment and let me know. Happy Mother's Day, y'all.
That's how I roll.
Song of the Day: Right as Rain by Adele
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