The House Xavier Built

This is the house that Jack built.

This is the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the rat,

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the cow with the crumpled horn,

That tossed the dog,

That worried the cat,

That killed the rat,

That ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

Xavier is going to build a house when he grows up, so he says. Repeatedly. On a daily basis. And each week I listen to what started as a normal house turn into a conglomerate of his favorite things.

Week1:

"Mom, I'm going to build a house when I grow up and you can come live with me there ok?"

"OK dear."

"And Im going to put in secret passageways in every room!"

"Neat."

Week 2:

"Mom, you know that house I'm going to build and you're going to come live wuth me?"

"Yup."

"Well I think I'm going to make it into a giant hotel too! But I promise I wont charge you. You can come live in my hotel for free."

"Aww how sweet. Thank you."

"Well, maybe I'll charge you one penny... but for a whole week not a night!"

'Errr... ok"

Week 3:

"Mom, how big of an aquarium would I need to have a whale shark? Cause I decided in my hotel house with secret passageways I also want a giant aquarium where I can go diving with whale sharks!"

"I have no idea."

"Do you think Whale Sharks and Goblin Sharks get along? Cause I want Goblin sharks too. I love Goblin Sharks. Oh, and Moray Eels. Hey Mom, did you know that there are lots of different kinds of Moray Eels but only 5 are not dangerous? Want to hear them, Mom? Ok there is the......"

Week 4: 

" Mom, I need to make my hotel house and aquarium safe from tornados. Do you think I should build it 100 miles  underground, or should I make it out of metal that can withstand high wind speeds? Oooh I know! Mom, I'll do both! Yeah! Hey Mom, do you think that would be a good idea?"

Week 5:

"Hey Mom! You  know my house I want to build? The hotel underground made of steel and has a GIANT aquarium where we can go diving? I want to make it indestructible! You know, in case a nuclear bomb goes off. That way if it does I can tell my guests that they are safe, nothing to see here folks, go back to your regular business. What do you think, Mom? Think that would be a good idea?"

Next week is week 6. I'll be interested to see what he adds on then. Either way, I haven't the heart to tell him what he wants he better do his best in school and figure out a career that will give him the capitol to create his house just the way he wants it

As He Grows

Soren has shown over the past few weeks a remarkable affinity for humor. Specifically, sarcasm. Yes, I am fully aware that he comes by it naturally. I recognize the gleam in his eye as something I myself have when I make some sort of humorous comment. I recognize the chuckle when he knows he did something funny, on purpose. I am aware that his antics are not accidental, but filled  with purpose. The purpose to make one laugh: with him, at him, in general, it matters not. So long as he can elicit laughter from his kin, he continues his efforts.

And boy does he make his kin laugh!

The one thing that while funny, is also annoying to me especially, is the refusal to say Mama. I dont know what it is with my boys but Ashe did the same damn thing. Ashe though, never said Mama. Soren can say it, and says it often enough when he is upset, or tired. When he is, he crawls to me whining "Mama, Mama!" Yet when he is happy or just playing around, anytime I work with him on language and say to him "Say Mama, Soren" he  looks at me with a gleaming eye, a tiny smirk just barely hidden and looking at me straight in the eye he shouts 'DADA!". Then he chuckles. He pulled a funny and he knows it.

Bugger.

Today as I was feeding him lunch he and Ashe exchanged snickers and gurgled laughter over nothing. Or maybe it was planned between them in some way I have no clue, myself being a "grown up" and unable to communicate the same way these two do. All I know is after the next spoonful of yogurt was placed to his lips he looked at me, smiled a very innocent looking smile, stuck out his tongue, and made a raspberry sound. Under normal circumstances I would have chuckled. This time though, I shrieked as I was splattered from hair to toes in baby spit and yogurt. Ashe burst out laughing, Soren chuckled, and that began 5 minutes of the two of them blowing raspberries at each other while laughing. I just walked away, cleaned myself up as best as I could, and waited it out.

What's hard for me is transitioning my thought process of him as an infant to that of an older baby (WHERE DID THE TIME GO???!?!?!!?!!!!) with his very own fast growing personality. My previous sweet super cuddly baby boy is changing before my eyes into a cruising, curious, independent, and FUNNY kid! I'm not sure I'm ready to make that thought transition to be honest. I recognize I'm not ready when one of the older boys is bugging him and where before he would whine or cry out then and there, now he crawls over to me  glaring in indignation and makes a squawking noise to let me know he is pissed and would I please do something about those meddlesome brothers of his before he must resort to hair pulling thankyouverymuch? And then he crawls away with a harrumph. I want to know where my cuddle boy went as I watch him racing with Xavier around the couch, or playing hide and seek (kind of) with Ashe. Or when I find him pulling himself up on the pantry shelves, trying to reach the Goldfish bag. How did this all happen so fast?

But his sense of humor. That, for me, is the biggest defining factor. Watching him as he purposely goes out of his way to make you laugh. It reminds me time and again that this infant is more than a baby, but an intelligent being stuck in a tiny rolypoly baby body, thinking out beyond the time of "now" to "What happens next if I..." and testing the waters. Knowing this child is using his mind, his memory, to elicit a response from others that he wants.

It's amazing to watch as he continues his progress and changes and grows. It's also a little sad. My baby is definitely growing up. And there is a part of me that wants to do what my mom used to threaten us with: freeze us just as we were at a certain age so she could keep enjoying that. When my mom used to say that, my brother and I thought she was serious and that she would put us in the freezer.And we were old enough to know if you went into the freezer you would, umm, die! Obviously I know better now (and know better than to actually say that to my kids so they dont freak out thinking mom has gone homicidal). And I can now sympathize with her. I want to do the same thing: freeze this time in Sorens life so I can enjoy more how he is before he grows too fast that this time is gone. Because in a turn of a moon, this time will be gone forever, and I cant get that back. But I promise to enjoy him now and as he grows. I'll enjoy his humor, his search for independence.


But I also promise to stand back 20 feet when he decides to blow raspberries with his mouth full of food again!

The Ocean

The ocean has an amazing hold on me. I can't explain it. It's not even something I recognize until again, I'm standing on the shore as the waves crash around my feet, the scent of salted air fills my senses, and I feel the breeze on my skin. No matter how often I forget, the moment I am there, I remember. And I embrace it with all my soul.

The ocean is soul refreshing. Each time I leave I feel renewed, refreshed, energized, and at peace. Nothing else has the capacity to still my scattered thoughts and allow me to just... be. Overlooking the vast expanse of water, the waves following the same pattern of rushing and running it has for millions of years, the feel of sand, rocks battered down over the millennia to a perfect smoothness, I am reminded in every sense that no matter how anxious I get over something, how stressed I make myself with worries, how annoyed I may have been with the kids crying or fighting over the choice of radio music on the way there... all of my problems are so miniscule. And like the waves constantly clearing the shore, my issues are so small and will also be cleansed with the cycle of time.

I am reminded that while *I* may think my worries are important at the time, in the long run I am only a small part of the entire whole of what is. And my worries, for the most part, are insignificant. While that thought process may scare some people, for me, that gives me a sense of peace and comfort. I feel both connected with the whole of what is, and that in time, my worries will cease to have meaning.

Capering on the sand, chasing waves, being chased by the waves, my children also love the ocean. There is no bickering between them. There is no whining, unless it's when J and I tell Soren no, he can not eat the sand. But that passes as he is distracted by a seashell or something edible to nosh on as he sits and stares at the waves. The older boys race together to jump into the white foamed water, screeching with delight. Happiness is children playing in the ocean together. Happiness is watching your children have the time of their life side by side, enjoying to the fullest what nature graciously offers. Such a gift is precious and one I cherish with all my heart.

Generic Cereal and Me

I'm going to come out and say it. I loathe generic cereals, offshoots of popular brands. Don't hate me. I have a reason for hating them, stemming from a long ago memory that has scarred me forever. It's not a public loathing either. You guys who enjoy generic cereal, I fully respect that. Hell, I buy a lot of other foods that are generic. But I just can't do it with cereal.

When I was a kid (fine! I admit it, even now at 31 years old! Hush now) my favorite cereal was Fruit Loops. Oh how I adore those yummy circles of chemically enhanced flavors of fruit! I can't get enough of them! It was the only cereal I would eat without allowing it to get soggy with milk. I would (and umm, still do) scarf those suckers down in mere seconds, then go for seconds and thirds.

One day, my mom decided to try to save money. A good idea all around. However, she screwed with my Fruit Loops. I vividly remember that day, sitting in the big part of the grocery cart and my brother was sitting in the chair. We strolled up the cereal aisle and instead of Fruit Loops, my mom decided to put in the cart some generic brand called Fruity O's. It had a picture of a cat on it. I looked at it, and tossed it out the cart and onto the floor.

"Brittany! That's not OK! We don't do that!" my mother hissed.
"Not Fruit Loops."
 "These are just like Fruit Loops."
"Not Fruit Loops."
"We're getting them and they'll be just as good as Fruit Loops. I promise."



The picture of the cat was a good foreshadowing. That crap tasted like cat food. Not that I know what cat food tastes like. I took one bite, ran to the sink, spit it out, and refused to eat it. My mom tried threatening me with not buying Fruit Loops until that box was gone. I held out for 3 weeks until she gave in. That box of Fruity O's gathered dust in our cabinets for years.

People have tried to get me to believe that other cereals are just like Fruit Loops: Fruity Pebbles for instance. You can take your Fruity Pebbles and eat them to your hearts content but dont ever think I'm stupid enough to believe they are the same. People, a good cereal is not just about taste. It deals with texture too. I also realize that consuming enough Fruit Loops will rip the top of your mouth into shreds. That's part of eating Fruit Loops. It's a sacrifice I'm willing to pay for my fruity goodness.




As a parent and adult I understand and acknowledge the whole buying generic to save money concept. I'm fully behind this endeavor. But an incident happened this week that reminded me again how much I loathe generic cereal.

J decided to check out Aldi again, a store we used to shop at regularly, now that it is very close to our new home. He took Ashe with him, a tradition of theirs (See Ashe and his Elephant for other food store escapades). Lately Ashe has been on a serious Lucky Charms kick, or as he calls them, Yucky Charms. J found a generic brand of "Yucky Charms" at Aldi and Ashe was ecstatic. He's been scarfing them down at snack time, or for breakfast. While focusing my attention on Soren who is trying to crawl up my leg, or to Ashe who is bouncing up and down, I would dole him out a small portion without noticing the box. Until the other day when it caught my attention. And since then, I've had a hard time opening the pantry and reaching for that box. Here is why:

As another person pointed out in a forum I frequent, nothing should have a beak AND teeth. Someone else pointed out it looks like a crossbreed of Patrick and Spongebob Squarepants. I want to know who was stoned enough to think THAT was a great image logo for a kids breakfast cereal box.

There is just something very creepy about a crazed looking star with ginormous, out of proportion teeth, and crossed eyes trying to lure your kiddo into eating their marshmellowy goodness. It's actually creepy enough that Xavier won't go into the pantry knowing that box was there. I can't say I blame the kid.

So I have added yet another reason as to why I loathe generic cereals. Fortunately I had the fortune of sending this creepy sucker to the garbage bin this morning. While Ashe piteously whined about the lack of Yucky Charms, I was able to turn him onto generic Goldfish instead: They're in the shapes of sharks and he loved gobbling them down.

Sharks I can handle. Stars with teeth? Not so much.

Happy Mothers Day!

It's Mothers Day so I am going to stay true to form and be really lazy here. I C&P most of the sage advice below. But it's true, and funny, so enjoy. You want to know why we celebrate Mothers Day? Here's a whole bunch of reasons why:

You Know You're a Mom When ...

1. Your feet stick to the kitchen floor.....and you don't care.
2. When the kids are fighting, you threaten to lock them in a room together and not let them out until someone's bleeding.
3. You can't find your cordless phone, so you ask a friend to call you, and you run around the house madly, following the sound until you locate the phone downstairs in the laundry basket.
4. You spend an entire week wearing sweats.
5. Your idea of a good day is making it through without a child leaking bodily fluids on you.
6. Popsicles become a food staple.
7. Your favorite television show is a cartoon.
8. Peanut butter and jelly is eaten at least in one meal a day.
9. You're willing to kiss your child's boo-boo, regardless of where it is.
10. Your baby's pacifier falls on the floor and you give it back to her, after you suck the dirt off of it because you're too busy to wash it off.
11. Your kids make jokes about farting, burping, pooping, etc. and you think it's funny.
12. You're so desperate for adult conversation that you spill your guts to the telemarketer that calls and HE hangs up on YOU!
13. Spit is your number one cleaning agent.
14. You're up each night until 10 PM vacuuming, dusting, wiping, washing, drying, loading, unloading, shopping, cooking, driving, flushing, ironing, sweeping, picking up, changing sheets, changing diapers, bathing, helping with homework, paying bills, budgeting, clipping coupons, folding clothes, putting to bed, dragging out of bed, brushing, chasing, buckling, feeding (them, not you), PLUS swinging, playing baseball, bike riding, pushing trucks, cuddling dolls, roller balding, basketball, football, catch, bubbles, sprinklers, slides, nature walks, coloring, crafts, jumping rope, PLUS raking, trimming, planting, edging, mowing, gardening, painting, and walking the dog. You get up at 5:30 AM and you have no time to eat, sleep, drink or go to the bathroom, and yet...you still managed to gain 10 pounds.
15. In your bathroom there is toothpaste on the light fixtures, water all over the floor, a dog drinking out of the toilet and body hair forming a union to protest unsafe working conditions.
16. You buy cereal with marshmallows in it.
17. The closest you get to gourmet cooking is making rice crispies bars

The Evolution of Motherhood

Yes, parenthood changes everything. But parenthood also changes with each baby. Here are some of the ways having a second and third child differs from having your first:

Your Clothes:

1st baby: You begin wearing maternity clothes as soon as your OB/GYN confirms your pregnancy.
2nd baby: You wear your regular clothes for as long as possible.
3rd baby: Your maternity clothes ARE your regular clothes.

The Baby's Name:

1st baby: You pore over baby-name books and practice pronouncing and writing combinations of all your favorites.
2nd baby: Someone has to name his or her kid after your great-aunt Mavis, right? It might as well be you.
3rd baby: You open a name book, close your eyes, and see where your finger points.

Preparing for the Birth:

1st baby: You practice your breathing religiously.
2nd baby: You don't bother practicing because you remember that last time, breathing didn't do a thing.
3rd baby: You ask for an epidural in your 8th month.

The Layette:

1st baby: You pre-wash your newborn's clothes, color-coordinate them, and fold them neatly in the baby's little bureau.
2nd baby: You check to make sure that the clothes are clean and discard only the ones with the darkest stains.
3rd baby: Boys can wear pink, can't they?

Worries:

1st baby: At the first sign of distress-a whimper, a frown-you pick up the baby.
2nd baby: You pick the baby up when her wails threaten to wake your firstborn.
3rd baby: You teach your 3-year-old how to rewind the mechanical swing.

Activities:

1st baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics, Baby Swing, and Baby Story Hour.
2nd baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics.
3rd baby: You take your infant to the supermarket and the dry cleaner.

Going Out:

1st baby: The first time you leave your baby with a sitter, you call home 5 times.
2nd baby: Just before you walk out the door, you remember to leave a number where you can be reached.
3rd baby: You leave instructions for the sitter to call only if she sees blood.

At Home:

1st baby: You spend a good bit of every day just gazing at the baby.
2nd baby: You spend a bit of every day watching to be sure your older child isn't squeezing, poking, or hitting the baby. 3rd baby: You spend a little bit of every day hiding from the children.

How To Know Whether Or Not You Are Ready To Be A Mother

 Mess Test:

Smear peanut butter on the sofa and curtains.
Place a fish stick behind the couch and leave it there all summer.

Toy Test:

Obtain a 55 gallon drum of LEGOs (if LEGOs are not available, you may (substitute roofing tacks). Have a friend spread them all over the house. Put on a blindfold. Try to walk to the bathroom or kitchen. Do not scream (this could wake a child at night).

Grocery Store Test:

Borrow one or two small animals (goats are best) and take them with you as you shop at the grocery store. Always keep them in sight and pay for anything they eat or damage.

Dressing Test:

Obtain one large, unhappy, live octopus (they turn bright red when they are unhappy). Stuff into a small net bag making sure that all arms stay inside.

Feeding Test:

Obtain a large plastic milk jug. Fill halfway with water. Suspend from the ceiling with a stout cord. Start the jug swinging. Try to insert spoonfuls of soggy cereal (such as Fruit Loops or Cheerios) into the mouth of the jug, while pretending to be an airplane. Now dump the contents of the jug on the floor.

Night Test

Prepare by obtaining a small cloth bag and fill it with 8-12 pounds of sand. Soak it thoroughly in water. At 8:00 p.m. begin to waltz and hum with the bag until 9:00 p.m. Lay down your bag and set your alarm for 10:00 p.m. Get up, pick up your bag, and sing every song you have ever heard. Make up about a dozen more and sing these too until 4:00 a.m. Set alarm for 5:00 a.m. Get up and make breakfast. Keep this up for five years. Look cheerful.

Physical Test

Obtain a large beanbag chair and attach it to the front of your clothes. Leave it there for 9 months. Now remove ten of the beans.

Final Assignment

Find a couple who already have a small child. Lecture them on how they can improve their discipline, patience, tolerance, toilet training and child's table manners. Suggest many ways they can improve. Emphasize to them that they should never allow their children to run wild. Enjoy this experience. It will be the last time you will have all the answers. 

For more funny stuff on being a mom you can visit Humor Matters, on being a Mom

Happy Mothers Day to all of you Moms out there. May you sleep in, drink Mimosas for breakfast, and nap an hour after you wake up. Get take out, stay in your PJs, and do what you want to do. Just remember not to drink too much tonight. You still have to get the kids ready for school in the morning. Doing that with a hang over isn't the best way to start your Monday. Trust me on this.


Happy Moms Day!!!

My WIne Glass

As I sit here typing this, I am sipping wine from a sippy cup. A good vintage, red merlot, fine and robust with a smooth flavor. In a blue sippy cup, with a built in straw. I'm torn between shame and amusement, both equal in validity, neither feeling stronger than the other. All I can think, as I sit here and slurp up my vintage wine, welcoming the weekend, that this is indeed, a true sign of being a Mom.

It's not that I don't have clean wine glasses. In order to keep my family from eating in a communal style I must do at least 2 loads of dishes a day. My wine glasses are clean, and stored above the stove where they have their home. So I cant blame lack of glasswear.

J just saw me, sitting in the livingroom, desperately trying to finish the book I've been working on, and with it being the weekend, treated me to a glass of red to celebrate the fact the children were put in bed and the weekend was upon us. In a sippy cup. Because of our white carpets. And I have the reputation of spilling my drinks quite often, drunk OR sober.

After giggling over his unspoken comment by his choice in cups, I enjoyed my wine for the first time with a straw. I finished my book and sippy wine in hand, headed downstairs to my desktop, where I now sit. Gaming with J and some friends, who are also celebrating the return of the weekend with drinks down the hatch, I realized my glass was empty. Instead of getting a regular wine glass, I refilled my sippy cup. No reason to dirty another glass. But still, I sit here, gaming, blogging, and drinking, with the glow of my screen illuminating my blue sippy cup and I have to smile. Drinking wine from a sippy cup fits me. It seems a good symbolism for life. To love and enjoy the quality core of what is important: family, love, etc.. things that matter... but wrapped in humor, silliness, laughter. Giggles.

I think this may become some sort of tradition for me. Just dont tell the kids I borrowed their cups.

Flat Paint

I have found a new addiction over at Moms blogger Club (MBC). While I don't have nearly as much free time as I wish to read all of the fantastic blogs all day long (and I would.. oh yes... I would if I could) what little time I have been able to use to read has been spent chuckling nonstop or nodding my head in agreement. I have found a plethora of funny, sarcastic, humorous moms, who tell it like it is. Just my cup of tea.


Within this site are groups. And within these groups I found one that made me do a double take, grin, and join instantly. Many people know about the memes Wordless. I found a group that did a spin off of that that fit my sarcastic sense of humor Wednesdays perfectly: What the Hell Wednesdays. And this is my first official WTH blog

WTH is up with flat paint? Seriously folks, who thought that flat paint was such an awesome idea? And to paint an entire house with it?

Maybe it's just because I'm a mom, but I see flat paint and shudder. It's impossible to clean. And impossible to keep clean.

As J and I were searching for places to live, we swept through each possibility, not really paying attention to those minute details which come to bite you in the butt later on. Case in point: We noticed the (sigh) white carpeting in this place, but totally forgot to check the paint. And you guessed it. It's flat.

Already, in 3 weeks, I am noticing little fingerprints on my (flat) white walls, despite the fact I am shadowing each kid whit a box of Chlorox wipes in my hands, walking behind them scrubbing like mad.

Already, I have rubbed a scuff mark on our wall a little too much and, umm, wiped the paint off.

Oops.

It's only been 3 weeks and I've made the ultimate decision that I am in fact, done. Done cleaning, done caring, done worrying. Instead, I am going to start saving money here and there, and when we move out, I'll just hire someone to repaint the entire house before we leave. While costly, I think it should end up being less expensive than the future therapy bills I would run up from losing my mind.

So can someone please tell me, WTH is awesome about flat paint that it's around in the first place? I don't get it.

Bathroom Antics

Once upon a time I was an adult who was able to make a trip to the bathroom in peace. I took that for granted. I assumed it was the right of every human being to be able to take care of business in privacy and relative peace. In fact, I believed this so much that a trip to the bathroom hardly registered in my brain. It just was one thing you did and continued on with life. It was.... insignificant. 

And then I had kids.

You would think, that after all the things we do for our children, the sleepless nights, the ham and pineapple splattered shirts we wear in public, the fact we are peed on and pooped on, spit up on, barfed on, with only a sigh and eye roll, that we would be given one thing, just one, to be able to do without a shadow clinging to our pant leg. But no. It doesn't work that way. Nothing is sacred once you have children. I repeat. NOTHING is sacred when you become a parent.

Depending on the age of your child there are different phases you will face on a (multiple) daily basis. I'll briefly explain each one.

First we have the newborn phase: Your precious gem of an infant is already in your arms 24/7 or else they will not sleep. However, that primal urge to deal with necessary issues creeps upon you at 4 am when you just got your little one to stop fussing and pass out in a seemingly comatose manner. You wait awhile, as the pressure increases, just in case your baby is trying to psych you out. After awhile you decide it's too much, your baby looks like a marching band could roll through your living room and not even twitch, so you make for the bathroom, baby in arms, tiptoeing hurriedly to the bathroom. Gently, you place your baby down somewhere warm and snug, lowering them down my the smallest increments that it would have to take a long exposure photograph to show your movements. You place them down gently, rise up slowly and turn to dash to the toilet when all of a sudden your dead to the world baby jolts, eyes pop open first in surprise, than in anger. Your baby glares at you in horror at this atrocious breech of trust, opens their rosebud mouth, and emits an ear piercing shriek of pure outrage that you DARED to put them down. You stand there aghast, caught between that urgent need to take care of business or pick the baby up and reassure them that Mommy was only kidding sweetheart, you can, umm, tag along... I guess...to the, umm, bathroom....

Then there is the wandering Baby phase: Your baby is self sufficient enough to handle times of being away from you. However your baby has learned to crawl/walk/cruise and while they no longer need to be in your arms at all times, they stick closer to you than your own shadow. Wherever you go, they go. If you stop, the start pulling themselves up to stand by hitching on to your jeans. And if you try to move when they do this, they get Ticked off with a capitol T. Heading to the bathroom in peace seems like it's a goal that can be reached, if you hurry. Sometimes you can be quick enough and enjoy a brief moment of solitude. Other times your shadow follows you right on in, babbling away. As you sit they make their way up to your jean leg and start pulling themselves up. Or they sit at your feet and gaze at you, arms stretched over their head, whining for you to pick them up. You can either A) pick them up or B) keep them from trying to find out what's going on in the toilet by continuously moving their hands away. When you're done, you must pick them up repeatedly and move them a few feet so you can close the lid before they stand up and investigate further with their little hands to see what was so cool that you had to leave their presence for a few minutes. I hate this phase. It's just.... gross.

Ages 2-4: Your child is seemingly engrossed in whatever it is they are doing and you rush off to take care of business. You sigh in relief. You just may have a chance to be alone for a moment or two, uninterrupted. And then you feel something, like a weighted gaze, and you slowly turn your head to the door. There, standing in the doorway, eyes round as saucers, staring at you, is your child.

'WHATCHA DOING MOMMY?"

"Umm, Im going potty."

"OH. CAN I SEE?"

"No!. Look, go play. Mommy needs a moment of privacy."

"HEY MOMMY! YOU GOING PEE OR POOP?"

".....go away.... and shut the door...please." The door shuts, and you think you won a round. Suddenly the door vibrates in agony as your child starts banging on the door.

"KNOCK KNOCK" (for the record I hate knock knock jokes)

Sigh... "Who'se there?"

"MOMMY"

"Mommy who?"

"MOMMY'S GOING PEE OR POOP!! AHAHAHAHAHAHA....HEY MOMMY? I GOTTA GO PEE NOW."

Never fails.

Then you have the older child:

My oldest son loves to talk. Nonstop. Sometimes he would just keep going without taking breath if I didn't interrupt him once in awhile with the gentle reminder to breath. Of course, there are plenty of times that he is off on a tangent and I need to rush off. I excuse myself and run and he follows me, still talking away. I (nicely) slam the door on his face. As I am in there, he's still gabbing away, garbled by the door now between us. so I only hear every 4th word or so.

"....he said....and then....Legos......grabbed......sword......and then.....so I.....can I?"

Note to parents: Never say yes if you hear the words "can I" through the other side of the bathroom door. This is usually when they attempt to get you to agree to buying them a pony or $400 Lego set.

Fun isnt it? Except I have one more to throw in. You see, I have 3 children, in 3 different stages. So when I need a moment I get a combo of all 3. 

We're heading out to the store/playground/school/museum. After changing Sorens diaper I tell the other boys to go potty before we head out. We have 4 bathrooms. I head to one nowhere near the kids, thinking to escape for a moment while they do their own business. Except Sorens chasing me, babbling away, giving my other two children perfect GPS coordinates of where Mommy is. Suddenly, I'm surrounded. Soren is trying to climb my pant leg. Ashe is yelling "MOMMY YOU GOING POTTY?" Xavier, is kind enough to stay in the hallway as he chatters away about Star Wars. Soren is now trying to climb into my lap. I put him down as he pitches a fit, Ashe is dancing around the tiny room yelling "KNOCK KNOCK MOMMY I GOT TO PEE" and Xavier keeps chattering on. I move to wash my hands after I help Ashe with his pants. Then grab Soren as he is trying to hoist himself on the toilet. He screams. Ashe pees while he sings. Xavier keeps chattering. Soren, as my back is turned for 5 seconds to suds up, stands on the toilet and maneuvers his hands into the bowl to play. He's just decided toilets are his new favorite toy and I now have to keep all bathroom doors shut and lids closed or suffer the gross consequences.

Xavier is chatting away.

What should be a 45 second moment of respite has now turned into a 3 ring circus act that lasts at least 5 minutes. Each time. And I'm the Ring Master, just trying to have a moment to myself, and instead I am keeping baby hands as sanitary as possible, answering knock knock jokes, pretending to listen to my 8 yr old, pulling up pants, washing hands, and just daydreaming about that glass of merlot I must have earned by now. Oh look, it's only 10am.

So for you parental units who struggle with some various form of what I described above, I salute you. You, the moms and dads, who sacrifice your time alone with the toilet. Who continuously struggle to keep babies from playing with the flusher, the paper, the... water. I nod in sympathy with you. For those of you who have to deal with curious toddlers and preschoolers, asking why is poop brown or pee yellow, when all you want to do is crawl under a rock and be left alone for just a few minutes while you take care of human needs. I drink to you and offer my support. You are not alone. It may be unspoken, a taboo topic for play dates, or dinners out with other parent friends. But we all know this (multiple) daily struggle. We suffer it too.

And for you non parental units, who laugh at bathroom antics, who take it for granted that it is a right to be left alone with one of the more baser and secret of bodily functions, keep note. Enjoy it, realize it is not a human right, but a privilege. Cherish that time alone you now take for granted so much, you don't even give going to the bathroom a second thought. And when the time comes that join the ranks of parental units, don't say I didn't warn you.