I wish I had known to be grateful for the simple things in life, like going to the bathroom. How arrogant I must have seemed every time I got up to use the bathroom.
How to get to the bathroom with kids?
Now I have 3 choices.
- Hold it until naps and risk a bladder or kidney infection.
- Go to the bathroom by myself and risk a nuclear meltdown because I guess they are worried I might escape out the window.
- Take everyone in with me and risk their lives since they are determined to climb into the tub, open every drawer and chase each other around a small and dangerous space.
The times I do dare to dream, I start with a lie “mommy is just getting you a diaper” then I creep down the hall and ever so slowly turn the handle of the bathroom door and very gently open it, holding my breath the entire time.
However, more often than not as soon as the door is even ajar, “MAMA?” then the pounding of 4 feet plus 4 paws (because the dog can’t be alone in a room) down the hall and into the bathroom. They bust through the door, like how dare I not invite them to the party?
They don’t seem to hear me when I tell them not to run along the couch but can freaking hear the whisper of the bathroom door opening.
I used to be the person who when out in public would hold in until I got home, now I hold it until I am alone and can use a public restroom. Disgusting, I know. But who knew I would be held hostage by two tiny people and their pet. I should have never let them take the catheter out when I left the hospital after delivering them. It’s true, hindsight is always 20/20.