Motherhood: Not even the bathroom is safe anymore

Ahh, the bathroom. Your sanctuary, your private library, your own little kingdom where you are the ruler of the porcelain throne and no one dare disturb you.... HA! Yeah right!

As a child, the bathroom was a special place for me. It was somewhere I could go if I just wanted to escape and be left alone for a while. Sure, it bugged the heck out of my parents, but who were they to judge as to whether I really had an upset stomach, or if I just wanted to finish a few more chapters of Harry Potter?

As an adult, the bathroom has continued to be a place where I could just steal a few moments to myself. Feeling overwhelmed? Hide in the bathroom. Don't really want to deal with anyone? Hide in the bathroom. Looking for a quiet place to finish reading that last chapter? Well, where else, but... the bathroom!

Now that I'm a mother, I've discovered that going to the bathroom is NOT the ultimate escape plan. Sure, I've heard horror stories of mothers trying to steal a few precious moments to themselves, only to be bombarded with the cries of infants and small hands reaching underneath the bathroom door, but that's just the thing, all the horror stories (and occasional pictures I've seen floating around the internet) involved SMALL hands, infant and toddler hands. Not the hands of pre-teens and teens. I'd never imagined it would be the cries of adolescents!

Just tonight, I decided to steal away to the bathroom, seek some quiet time to reflect on the day, when not a few minutes later I hear my son knock on the door to ask if he may get on the computer before he does his chores. Now, he knows he isn't supposed to be asking to do any fun stuff before his chores are done, and really, you're going to bother me while I'm in the bathroom, for THAT? Annoyed is putting it gently. I reminded him of his duties, and vowed to myself to attempt some quiet time again later in the evening.

Alas, I was again denied. Not a moment after I'd hung up my towel (if I couldn't get privacy on my throne, I sure was going to get it in my shower darn it), I hear another knock on the door. What could it be this time? My youngest was now requesting my help because she could not get the Wii to work correctly for the game she wanted to play, and mommy needed to come to the rescue. Instead of the leisurely after shower pampering that I had planned, I was now rushing to throw on some pj's and put my hair up in a clip, so that I could figure out what the devious game system was up to now.

With the cries of, "Lady A*, where is the toilet paper**?", "Lady A*, can I get on the computer?", and "Lady A*, could you possibly take my boyfriend home***?" still ringing in my ears, I'm resigning myself to the fact that I may never again have a "quiet" place to escape to, at least not until the kids are grown and gone. Because really, if you can't escape to the bathroom, you can't escape anywhere.

~ Lady A


*My children tend to address me by my given name. My youngest goes back and forth, and that's just fine. Whether they want to call me mommy or not is their decision.
**You know when you're kids ask you where something is, even though you've told them (and physically shown them) at least half a dozen times? Yeah...
***You also know that thing where your kids will ask you if you'll do something, even though you sat and thoroughly explained to them why you WON'T be doing it? Mmmhmmm....