As a responsible young woman, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for my children to show them I love them and cherish them.
I keep fresh fruit and veggies in the fridge, mostly to rot and mold; I shuttle their whiney little arses all over hell’s half acre so they can socialize with other demon spawn on a regular basis; I sit through hours of endless teen movies with my kids by my side, hogging the popcorn and spilling their drinks on my sofa all the while Hilary Duff and Miley Cyrus suck out what’s left of my brains with a straw poked through my eyeball.
If that doesn’t scream parental love and devotion then I don’t know what the hell else to do. Maybe try backflips on the trampoline while naked.
(Oh wait. I did try that. Every time I bounced my bladder would explode and soon the trampoline was a puddle of urine and my children wouldn’t come near me for days except to remind me to buy adult diapers. Ingrates.)
Still, there has to be a line drawn in the sand so that I don’t slip into the mindless role of caregiver and forget that before children I was actually an articulate and interesting woman. Not just a pathetic reincarnation of June Cleaver.
The line in the sand happens to be where the tile floor starts and the hardwood ends. Also known as the bathroom.
While I am in the sanctity of my powder room, I am no longer Mom. I am off duty. I am Tanis. My bowels and my bladder are my own and I choose not to wipe my ass with anyone watching other than my dog.
When they were little they’d follow me in or pound on the door and there would be no escape from them. But they are on the cusp of teenagedom. They are at the age where they want a little restroom privacy themselves. For the most part I’ve trained them to leave me the hell alone.
Or enter at your own risk. I can’t guarantee you won’t see something traumatic and life changing. I can’t guarantee you will like the answer when you see my diva cup and ask what it is and what it’s used for. Heh.
So when my daughter ran through the house this weekend, calling my name, I yelled the same warning I’ve been yelling for years in hopes of finding a moment of damn peace while I sit on the throne.
“I’m in the washroom. Leave me alone.”
“Mom! Mom!” I could tell from her voice that she was getting closer to the washroom.
“I’m in the bathroom. I’ll be right out.” As in, ‘listen here you punk ass kid. That hamburger that you convinced me to buy when you saw a pair of golden arches is not agreeing with my sensitive digestive system. Because of your baby blue eyes and unique skill of twisting yourself around my little pinky, my bowels are about to erupt and take the entire remains of the lower half of my body with them. I can’t guarantee I will survive this abdominal uprising. But I guarantee if you come in here, you won’t.’
Apparently I need to work on my scary mommy voice because before I could draw in my next breath, the bathroom door swung open and my daughter rushed into the bathroom.
“Mom!”
“I’m a little busy here, kiddo. Get out.” As I hugged my body for dear life and prayed to the porcelain Gods for mercy.
“You stink.” Her nose crinkled and she grimaced.
“Thanks for the olfactory update. Can this wait?” I growled.
“I just want to tell you something.” If she could have smiled any bigger I’m sure her face would have cracked in two. Figuring at this point it was just easier to listen to her than to shoo her out, I just bowed my head and reminded myself that there will once again come a time when I can potty in peace. When I’m like 80 or something.
“What?” I figured her news had to be the equivalent that her brother is on fire or she won the damn lottery.
“I’ve got BOOBS!” She grinned excitedly.
“That’s what you came in here to tell me. Even though my bathoom door was shut and I told you to go away?” I growled. “OUT. NOW.”
“No Mom! I’ve got boobs! LOOK!” Said as she whipped up her shirt so I could look at her invisible rack.
(Because this is what my life has become: stuck on a toilet while preteens ignore my wishes and flash me. I know it’s symbolic for something. I just don’t want to know what.)
Maybe it was the light, maybe it was the fact that I was slowly losing my mind and my children take great delight in helping suck any remnants of intelligence out of me, but I looked at her beautiful face, glowing with hope and excitement and then I looked at her prepubescent chest, and I nodded my agreement.
“Yep. Those are boobs. Great big buds of boobs. Look out Dolly Parton. Here comes Fric,” I rolled my eyes as she examined her flat chast in my mirror.
“I’m almost an adult now, Mom. You said once I got boobs I was halfway to womanhood.” She smiled.
“Ya, but I also said when I’m in the bathroom to stay the hell out. Since when do you listen?”
She pulled her shirt down, looked at me with that preteen distain and rolled her eyes. “Whatever Mom.” And with that, she was gone.
Just in time for me to notice I didn’t have any toilet paper. Damn.
“Fric get back here! I need some teepee!”
Silence.
“Fric!” Nothing. She had turned up her music and was immune to my pleas for help.
Which is the sum of my life these days. Can’t find peace in the bathroom when I need it. Of any sort. Toilet paper or privacy.
Welcome to parenthood. And my blog. It doesn’t get any better than this.
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As a special treat and favour to my dearest friend Catherine, I’ve written an ode for her and women everywhere over at her blog.
Check it out if you like. And use this as a shining example why you should never hand me the keys to your castle. Heh.
68 Comments
I love you, Tanis.
This is the gold standard.
I guess mom’s lack the gene that affords them the ability to ignore everything from kids banging on the door to nuclear holocaust while on the can. That’s why dads read in piece while on the thrown.
You are freaking priceless. I swear you should write a book, you are totally the next Judy Blume!
Allie (RedheadMom on Twitter)
Or “peace” is you want to be all correct and stuff. Woohoo for college learnin’!
Oooh, this IS my future, I’m sure of it…..
There’s a special place in Heaven for us moms… there’s bathrooms that give us the privacy we’ve begged for most of our lives, an unlimited supply of toilet paper, and no kids banging on the bathroom door telling us to hurry up because they want us to make them a sandwich.
I swear by all that is holy that my next house will have a bathroom with a deadbolt lock and an electric fence…and perhaps a moat. I haven’t decided yet.
Up here in Minnesota, we just go to the outhouse…
Everyone follows me to the bathroom. It’s like my bladder is the freaking Pied Piper.
Classic! I love it. Though I can say that our preteen is mortified with the though of getting boobs, her period, etc. she screams and runs away at the very mention of those teen things.
As for peace…get a hacksw and threaten fingers…it works like a charm.
Not to split hairs but I doubt June Cleaver ever peed on a trampoline. Although I bet if she had a trampoline she probably would.
HA! You are too funny! My daughter is actually starting to GET boobs, and doesn’t want them! Maybe we can send them to Fric!
I swear, by the time this is all over, I just be shi**ing in public. It’s no wonder old people talk about their bowels with anyone who will listen. Hell, when we were potty training Patrick, he actually applauded ME everytime I went to the bathroom! The entire wait staff of Chik Fil A LOVED that one, I’m sure.
It really doesn’t get any better than this! LMAO! You rock Tanis!
I would LOVE to see the search strings that people enter to get this page on google. This post has it all: preteen, boobs, poop, urine… it’s like a cornucopia of fetish search term hits! (You’ll probably be the #1 site in Germany with this one, which, as we all know, is your ultimate goal: sharing the love and adoration of the German people with David Hasselhoff.)
Someday, I will get to pee by myself. Of course, by that point, I will likely be old enough to need a bathroom assistant.
It’s cute that you think they will listen to you.
And that you say “washroom”.
LMAO. Oh, now you need her when you have nothing to wipe your ass with. Hrmph.
School starts soon…… personally I couldn’t tell you for sure right now if my bathrooms even have doors. Something they never tell you “before”- Bathrooms and phones are spawn magnets.
NAKED backflipping. There’s an idea.
I have a 13 year old boy and I have the same problem. LOL. Hugging your body had me cracking up.
I laughed so hard I think I sharted. Thanks. Now I need to go clean myself up.
Dear God, woman, you are priceless! These days, my kids are good for fetching the toilet paper and changing the TV channel. I’m all warm and fuzzy over your bonding moment with Fric, but I hope my lug nuts keep their pants up…well, as soon as I’m done double checking the butt of that youngest pooper of mine.
You just almost got me fired.
Haven’t laughed that hard at a blog post in a LONG time. Thank you! Damn, that is priceless.
I remember when I got my boobs. So freaking exciting. And I also remember the first time I got to go to the restroom in privacy after my son was born.
SO FUNNY.
I am laughing so hard I have tears running down my face.
I haven’t gotten to use the bathroom in peace in three years. It sounds like it will be a lot longer before I get to again. Wonderful.
OMG! I hurting while pee’ing my pants….droopy boobs and all.
I cannot go to the bathroom alone here either, the 7 y/o boy, 16 y/o girl always have to ask a question/need something the minute my cheeks hit the seat and……I have the dog and cat in there most of the time, fighting and yesterday the boy brought down the hamster in the ball and dropped her in there too!!!!!
I could not have written about the fun of the toilet as well as you do!!!!!
The other day I was on the throne and I had no less than 2 dogs and 2 toddlers staring me down.
And forget pottying alone at 80, then you will have a nurses aid there to wipe your ass. Is that better or not? I can’t decide right now I have too many children on my lap to type.
i’m sure i will die when Emily gets her great big buds of boobs. and i’m sure i’ll be on the can when she tells me all about ‘em…
Being able to poop in peace. Sigh. A woman can dream.
Yeah, somehow the sounds of me dropping trou is THE call for all creatures under 3.5 feet in height to come to the bathroom. If it’s not the kid, it’s the damn cat. I am NEVER alone in there. i can only hope one day these critters discover some semblance of common courtesy, or maybe a notion of privacy? Maybe? Please?
Still, at least mine only flash their bums so far.
Behold my future… Seriously though, I am so happy for you that your daughter feels so comfortable coming to you with something like that. I was petrified of my mom. I hope that my two little girls still feel comfortable enough during their preteen years to flash me when I’m on the pot! Weird, huh?
I never even bother to close the door anymore. What’s the point? They never follow Mr. Schmitty in…well, I guess I wouldn’t either, they know better. They would die a horrifying death.
LMAO. Out of all that the only thing Black Hockey Jesus got was the naked trampoline jumping. Poor boy. At least he’s getting his jollies.
I remember when my “buds” started. My mom made my dad take me to get a training bra. Talk about embarrassing. He made a big production out of telling everyone within earshot that I was finally getting some boobs and he was stuck taking me for my “pretend bra”. I wouldn’t go back to the store for weeks with him.
Heh. You should put a lock on that door dear to keep them out. Boobs. Who needs boobs? I’ll gladly donate my humongous, back - breaking, foot - tripping boobs to someone in need. I just want the nipples.
Too funny and I can totally relate!! We only have one washroom and when the girls moved in full time any peace and quiet left!! My hubby is just as bad!!! I also hear about budding breasts from Big Sis ALL the time!!!
I’d say I’m happy to have boys instead of girls but I know come teenagehood, it’s fair game. Can’t.Hardly.Wait.
If you REALLY loved your family, you wouldn’t leave them without toilet paper in the bathroom. Wonderful story. And a bit scary. And don’t become the next Judy Blume. I say become the next Mark Twain.
Only you could have my laughing till I cry over a story about decaying McBurgers and invisible boob buds. Well done! Of course I’m scarred for life but hey, it’s just a part of your charm.
That is just hilarious!! Write a book! write a book!
This blog is fabulous!!
LOL!
You would love my 2 year old. She is fully potty trained and now runs to the bathroom, saying, “I don’t need you, what I need is some privacy.”
She is all about privacy and only yells for us when she is ready to wipe. I am still working on the Momma needs privacy now… she is not falling for it!
I am not looking forward to the “Look I got Boobs!” moment!
Oh good GOD! This is what I have to look forward to after my own 3 year old asked me if we could go to Walmart and buy her some boobs. This conversation did not take place while I was on the toilet, but I was barged in on once while in the midst of changing a tampon only to be regaled with shrieks of horror about how mommy was bleeding and going to die. Yup. Kids….can’t live with ‘em, can’t shoot ‘em.
I LOVE this post!
Look on the bright side, at least YOU’RE the one she’s “flashing”.
Jordan came to me with the story that the girls on the beach were teasing him because he didn’t have any armpit hair. Jordan, who is very PROUD of his armpit hair, btw, reached for the sky and let them count the, what, four hairs that he’s managed to grow. That’s my boy.
When I’m in the bathroom, Tessa stands on the bathroom counter so she can admire her “baby boobies.” She’s three by the way.
A friend told me she ate dinner once in the bathroom because the kids wouldn’t leave her alone. I don’t think that would work for me, and I don’t think it would work for me.
http://notesfromthesleepdeprived.blogspot.com
Poop AND boobs in the same post!
No wonder I have pledged my undying love to you.
I hope your tummy’s better.
xo
b.
You have a diva cup? Duuuuuude. Those things freak me the freak out.
And hate to burst your bubble but at 80 they will probably be wiping your but for you…
My oldest still does this to me on occasion when she visits ,and her 3 year old does it to her every time she is in the bathroom ,ahhhh sweet revenge .
Love it!!!!!! What tips can you offer on training? Mine are 3 & 6; already immune to the scarey voice.
dude, this was classic. and fabulous. and a sad portent of things to come in my house, i’m sure…
sigh.
The Mistah just babysat 3 dogs, and *they* wouldn’t let him poop in peace, either. Sounds like you’re in good company.
hahahaha! gosh T. you always make me laugh.and snort my tea or coffee everywhere…my 3 year old camps out side the bathroom door when i’m in there and bangs and whines at the door!you’d think a grown woman could piddle or take a dump without company but no not in my house…
I’m learning the bathroom is the only place I can get away from Peanut & The Champ. And like you that place isnt always safe either.
You are truly funny and a gifted writer. I so enjoy your stories and your frank honesty. Refreshing.
i have found that if i tell them i’m in there making out their christmas lists, they run off whooping and squealing, giving me those last few fleeting moments of peace. they have no idea yet what an incredible liar i am.
That’s freaking hysterical!
You’re telling me that they’re going to keep on barging in? When they’re that old? I still won’t get to have privacy?
I would have totally give you toilet paper.
Except you live in damn Canada. And I live in damn Utah.
Damn.
You need to get a lock on your bathroom door!
You crack me up. I had tears from laughing soooo hard.
Brilliant. You.
Well, that apple didn’t fall far from the tree, did she!?
You’re a fuckin’ godness, and I’d be rushing to bring you teepee, just so you know.
Ha! One of my kitties HAS to be in the bathroom with me … but he never shows me his boobs. He just head butts me.
I get a sick thrill out of locking the door so when they try to get in. And you know how kids can’t just twist the knob. They have to lob their bodies at the door while doing that. So with the door locked they slam themselves into the door. And it makes me happy even if it does startle me to the point of “thank god I’m already on the toilet”.
This was hilarious!!! I have a nine year old who kept asking me “are they there yet”. That was until I bought her some training bras. Now she’s sure they aren’t and oh please Mom don’t make me wear those.
You’re great. Thanks for that. Big smiles over here.
So that’s what I have to look forward to. Meh. She’s only nine months old now, but I can just feel it coming ’round the bend…
Thanks for the good laugh - I really needed it this morning!
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The snapshot image of you on the can while Fric flashes you is absolutely hilarious.