Two Things That Should Be Done Alone

by admin

Two Things That Should Be Done Alone

I am a mother of two. So I have no time to myself. I understand the responsibility and love the decision I have made to embark on this journey called “Motherhood.” When you are without a mini-me, there are certain things you take for granted. I am sometimes frustrated at my lack of privacy, and long for the peace I had before I was blessed with children. As always I try to use humor to keep from freaking the hell out, and my approach often falls short.

Momma Poo-Poo Momma Pee-Pee 
I am sure there was a time in my life when going to the bathroom was not such a big deal. I never thought using the bathroom would ever be a team sport where I needed spectators. Why is it that kids avoid bathrooms like the plague, unless there is a mom in need of emptying her bowels? I can not get my kids to brush their teeth, take a bath, or wash their hands. In fact anything that goes on in the powder room requires an hour long pep talk, huge fight, repeating myself, and supervision. Now it seems that the bathroom is the most popular room in our house, but only when I am sitting on the throne. One of two things is bound to happen when I enter the bathroom. I will sigh in relief after I close the door that I escaped without notice. Just as I am pulling my pants down, the banging and crying will began. Shortly thereafter I will see a tiny little hand sliding under the door and feeling around while she cries “Momma me in, Momma me in.” Or she will tail me into the bathroom and it will be impossible to remove her! While she is in there with me, she will try to put her hands in the toilet while I am on it, dig in the garbage can, try to crawl into the tub, and unroll toilet paper all over the bathroom. This to me is okay. I have made the decision that I would rather have the quiet than the privacy! When I am done she must try to look in the toilet. I do not know what she is looking for, or if she found it! I must then spend ten more minutes re-wrapping the toilet paper, putting the trash back in the garbage can, and putting everything back in the drawers that she pulled out. A simple trip to the bathroom has just exhausted me. My favorite part is when we come out of the bathroom and she announces to everyone “Momma poo-poo Momma pee-pee.”

Put Your Feet in the Stirrups
Like all women, I dread my annual trips to the gyno. I would rather have my head shaved with a rusty razor by a blind man! It takes a week to mentally prepare for the vaginal assault. I tell my husband several times “I have an appointment on Thursday so you will have to take the baby.” He nods and never makes eye contact. Which as all wives know means, “I hear ya and I know you are speaking to me, but I will not remember one word you say to me, and will then deny that this information was ever said to me over and over again.” Needless to say the baby and I are off to my pap together! Now my vagina and I never get to do anything alone. I am shocked! My vagina is not. I arrive at said appointment, late! I am rushed back at which time one of God’s great mysteries occur … crying for no reason ! Loud and hysterically! The nurses are trying to help. One offers to hold her, or take her to the nurses’ station. She screams louder! I get naked as fast as I can, because my breasts will also be assaulted today. I put on my stylish yet scratchy paper jacket and paper wrap while she proceeds to scream louder than I ever thought possible! I am in tears before the doctor even gets to the room. I put the screamer back in her carrier so I can put my feet in the stirrups. She screams louder! I ask my doc to hand me baby, carrier and all! I hold my screaming twenty-pound infant in her forty-pound carrier on my abdomen rocking her back and forth while singing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” as the speculum is sliding in. I was crying, the baby was crying, and the doctor was crying! My doctor kept saying, “Are you okay?” “Am I hurting you?” “I am hurrying, honey.” By the time she was feeling my twins for lumps, I noticed there were two other nurses in the room. One was talking to the baby trying to get her to calm down, and the other was holding my free hand trying to get me to calm down. It did not work. I got dressed barely noticing the room was full of people. The screaming continues. They all follow me to the front desk, singing to the baby and telling me it will be okay. The whole waiting area turns to stare at me. The expectant mothers looked paralyzed in fear, and the moms with their own screamers in their carriers look pleased because for the time being their screamer is sleeping! I turned and thanked them on my way out. I ran to the car with purse, diaper bag, and baby in carrier. I slid her carrier into its base, and as soon as it clicked! Silence! I get in the car, lean back and take a deep breath. It’s over. I go to start the car and I hear this paper crinkling and feel something rough against my back. I reach my hand behind me in the back of my pants, and pull out a piece of my paper wrap.
There are just some things a mother and her vagina need to do alone.