Get Off the Pot!

Micky Potty Training - he has no problem taking his time.

So we've all been there.  After having kids, the days of going to the bathroom solo are a thing of the past.  I've read some hilarious posts about trying to use the bathroom with little ones running in to show you their new favorite doll, talk to you about the bully who tied their shoe laces together at recess that day, pounding on the door if you managed to close and lock it in the first place, because they NEED to tell you that they love you face-to-face.  And I've been there, way more often than I'd like to talk about.

But last night, something different happened and it was sort of a wake up call.  After rushing home from work, picking the kids up, taking them to CCD, living through a handful of totally-typical-but-always-frustrating-tantrums, we'd finally made it home.  And boy did I have to go!  It was one of those days that when I finally stopped to breathe, I realized I hadn't used the bathroom all day!  So here was my chance.  I dropped everything and rushed upstairs.

And as I sat there . . . well let's just say this was just one more thing that wasn't coming easily to me that day.  I tried reading a magazine, I tried breathing slowly in and out.  Nothing.  Then I actually got mad at myself and shouted outloud, "Come on already!  Do it!  I don't have time for this!  I have to fix the kids dinner!"  Then I stopped.

Are you kidding me?!  I looked around.  I was completely alone.  None of my kids had come in to ask me to help brush their babydoll's teeth, or find a missing .5mm clear lego peice, or turn all their socks right-side out again.  In fact, the house was eerily quiet.  Straining a bit, I could hear them playing nicely together down the hall in their bedrooms.

I finally had my chance to have a normal human bodily function IN PRIVATE and in MY OWN TIME, and I was rushing myself!  Not only rushing myself, but giving myself a guilt-complex at the same time.  I had actually told myself, outloud, that making dinner for my kids was more important than my eliminating waste.  (Ok, I know that's a gross combination of thoughts).  And the worst part was, it wasn't an expectation anyone else had put on me (at least not that day).  It was totally self-induced.  So I took one more deep breath, looked at my daily reminder on my bathroom mirror . . . and relaxed.