I’m currently writing this post while sitting in my bathroom (it’s the only room in my house with a lock on the door, so don’t get grossed out), while my three-year-old and dog sit just outside the door fighting over a piece of bacon. My six-year-old is waving her fingers underneath the door reminiscent of a scene in a horror film while trying to persuade me to give her my iPhone passcode so she can stare mindlessly at kids eating candy or playing video games on YouTube.
These are the glory days of motherhood I’m told.
Never mind seeking refuge in the bathroom to gain a few moments of quiet solitude, there are a few other things my energetic, willful daughters do on a daily basis that I’m not sure I will put in the “bittersweet memories” file once they are past.
1. Let’s just start with being able to go to the bathroom alone. I’m fairly certain my children believe I will get sucked down the toilet or some long-deceased beta fish will find it’s way out of the murky sewers rising from the commode in its new mutant form to consume me in one bite. I’ve timed how long it takes them to realize I’m no longer in their line of vision and begin the mom hunt: less than 30 seconds. They could give search and rescue dogs a run for their money. A peaceful potty break is something I look forward to in years to come.
2. Stepping on a wooden block. Or Lego. Or if you’re really unlucky the loathed Barbie brush. Especially when you asked someone, really anyone besides me, to pick up said torture device moments
before your foot fell victim.
3. Behaving like I’m ripping each, individual hair from their heads while brushing it. Some days the shrieking starts when I walk into the room with the brush in hand. I want to explain to them this is nothing compared to the hours I spent with my round brush and hair dryer in middle school desperately trying to turn my curls into something reminiscent of Sarah Michelle Gellar on “Buffy.” And just like my stubborn tween curls, they don’t listen.
4. Calling me from the opposite end of the house to ask me to hand them something that is only half a foot away from where they are sitting. Also see: not being able to find something that is hiding in plain sight. If only they would apply the same skill set to finding the lost toy as they do when I try to take a quick shower without an audience.
5. Repeating myself until my voice reaches the level of “mommy dearest” just to have my kids look at me and ask me why I’m yelling. Did I mention repeating myself?
However, with the bad comes the good and as I near falling over the edge while climbing this mountain called parenthood, a rope is thrown to me and I look up to see the faces I know so well (I made them after all) smiling their goofy grins and pulling me back to the safety of their unconditional and innocent love.
I know this ride goes fast. Too fast. And I truly do try to relish every moment afforded to me to step back and enjoy the wonder and boundless joy of their childhood.
I make my best effort to appreciate every moment as their mother and am grateful that our problems are not really problems at all but the result of a long day and little patience (mostly on my part).
But for the time being, at this stage of parenting, going to the bathroom without an audience sounds better than a day at the spa.