Going to the bathroom is a communal experience in my house. When one must purge the impurities from his or her system, a shout is heard throughout the house, "I'm going to the bathroom now!" Then others following en masse to the threshold of the lavatory in hopes to be a part of some bathroom fun. Someone may bring a snack, another one might bring a book or a deck of cards. The bathroom becomes a malodorous but popular break room.
This bathroom open door policy might partially be my fault. [Side note: dear voters, should I ever run for office, you should appreciate the fact that this open door policy is something I created.]
When the kids were babies, I would leave the door open so that I could hear any whimpers, cries, or squeaks. And when potty training time came around, the door was left open so that I could hear those cherished words, "Mommy! Come wipe me! I'm done!"
No one shuts the door unless they are hiding something. For example, my three-year-old would lock himself in the bathroom and flush his brother's pencils and action figures. A new $315 commode later, we convinced him that Hercules fought a courageous battle (using the pencils - of course), but he wasn't able to win against those nasty potty demons.
Given this, my kids must think I'm sneaking a treat when I shut the bathroom door. Privacy in the lavatory is a beautiful thing when it's time to celebrate my monthly "joy" of being a woman. There are just some things that should be done alone without having to read "The Poky Little Puppy" or guess the capital of Nebraska.
Solitary occupancy of my bathroom is difficult when the type of tampons I use are wrapped in the same kind of plastic that is used to wrap candy bars. Yes, I'm well aware that there are tampons with quieter wrappers out there, but I prefer this brand because they are more (pardon the term) comfortable.
Kids have a supernatural hearing ability for things that sound like a candy wrapper, so when I peel back the plastic on my tampon I must try to be as quiet as possible. They always hear the crinkling plastic, run to the door, and holler, "Whatcha doin' Mommy?" "Kin I have some?" "No fair! Mommy's got candy in the potty!"
Since I don't have a lock on my bathroom door, I must strategically place my foot at the bottom of the door and keep my butt on the toilet at the same time to keep my children from entering and sharing in the tampon deployment.
Taking a shower with the door shut isn't safe either. Occasionally, while I'm lathering up and thinking clean shower thoughts, one of my kids will quietly open the door, sneak inside, and poop. There's no escape the piquant odor my dear child left behind for me.
My kids aren't the offenders every time. If I'm in the bathroom with the door shut longer than two minutes my husband will gently rap on the door and say, "Honey, are you okay in there?"
What in the heck can happen to me in there? Wild dust bunnies lurking behind the commode attack me as I reach for toilet paper? Rabid rubber duckies come to life and snarl at me while I cower atop my porcelain chair? Do I strain so hard that I require CPR? Oh I know! The toilet suddenly overflows as a 40-foot anaconda slithers up and coils around me in a death grip inhibiting me from reaching the switch so that I can turn on the fan!
Ah, I digress.
As my kids grow older, they will be shocked to learn that most folks bravely go alone and shut the door when they visit the bathroom. Perhaps I can teach my kids that going to bathroom by themselves is a time for individual reflection. It's a time to brood over life's deep meaning, and most importantly it's a time to take care of your private bathroom business without comments, suggestions, or a game of "Potty Poker" with family members.
Stay tuned for more SouthernAngel's rants!
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Angela Gillaspie is a writer, programmer/analyst, and proud Southern WAHM Momma. When she's not in front of the computer, she's cooking, avoiding housework, or on a ball field as a volunteer coach. She lives in Alabama with her husband and four younguns. Visit Angela's web site at www.southernangel.com
