There are times in a Mother's life when she truly needs to be alone. There aren't many, but the times that it is truly necessary are the times we will do almost anything to have five minutes. Just. Five. Minutes.
I have gotten used to peeing, pooping, bathing, drying off, and doing 99.9% of things you grow up doing solo, with an audience of two very attentive children. And usually I wouldn't have it any other way.
Usually.
Usually I don't mind the questions about my lady parts (including "why you have nipples stickin out, Momma?" to which, and I applaud myself, I did not retort with "because while I took a two minute shower in freezing water so the bathtub could overflow with the hot water I wished I was using, you pulled the last three clean, but more importantly dry, towels into the disaster zone and now I'm using a damp towel as effective at drying as a Golden Retriever's tongue" but I just walked out into my soggy carpet and put a clean (and by clean I mean only worn three times) bra on.
Usually it brings a smile to my face that they want to by near my so badly they don't mind bringing in a snack to watch me pee. It's cute.
But tonight I had something that made my "sensitive stomach" pissed off. In fact, my stomach would make sure I knew how badly it would react so the said food item would never be glanced at in the grocery aisle again... I will cower and shudder if I ever go by a Philly's Cooking Creme tub (with a shart, too, just to make sure it isn't even considered again).
Anyways, my usual audience was down to one. Xander was sitting on the stool in front of me with wide eyes and a lot of questions. Trying not to lose my cool, I told him to go find daddy.
"Go find Daddy."
"Um... no thank you." (This is a very new phrase that I'm starting to not care for...)
"This isn't a request. Please leave and go find daddy."
"Um... no thank you." (X stands up and walks up the stool.)
"X. Do Not Turn On The Faucet."
"Uh Oh." (He turned on the faucet. He pulls the clean hand towel into the running water.)
"XANDER! Please don't. Please. Just GO FIND DADDY!"
"I just need to clean my hands!"
"No. No. No. Please. GO FIND DADDY!"
Setting the soaking hand towel on the side of the vanity, water dripping down the wood work and pooling by my feet, he continues to soak the powder room.
People, I am not at the liberty to stand up. Even leaning forward isn't advisable at this point.
I scream for Mr.
Mr. comes running.
Poor Mr. has to open the door.
"Xander! Come on, leave momma alone! What are you doing in a puddle of water?"
Xander picks the towel back up and rings out the water on each finger.
Mr. picks him up and as he closes the door, X says, "I just giving my fingers water, Daddy! They is thirsty!"
And that was the moment I realized I don't even need privacy while I have stomach-flu like conditions - one one liner like that makes me feel better than a bottle of Pepto ever would... bring on the audience of two, please.
Scratch that. Give me a little privacy and save the adorable one liners for when I come out.
I have gotten used to peeing, pooping, bathing, drying off, and doing 99.9% of things you grow up doing solo, with an audience of two very attentive children. And usually I wouldn't have it any other way.
Usually.
Usually I don't mind the questions about my lady parts (including "why you have nipples stickin out, Momma?" to which, and I applaud myself, I did not retort with "because while I took a two minute shower in freezing water so the bathtub could overflow with the hot water I wished I was using, you pulled the last three clean, but more importantly dry, towels into the disaster zone and now I'm using a damp towel as effective at drying as a Golden Retriever's tongue" but I just walked out into my soggy carpet and put a clean (and by clean I mean only worn three times) bra on.
Usually it brings a smile to my face that they want to by near my so badly they don't mind bringing in a snack to watch me pee. It's cute.
But tonight I had something that made my "sensitive stomach" pissed off. In fact, my stomach would make sure I knew how badly it would react so the said food item would never be glanced at in the grocery aisle again... I will cower and shudder if I ever go by a Philly's Cooking Creme tub (with a shart, too, just to make sure it isn't even considered again).
Anyways, my usual audience was down to one. Xander was sitting on the stool in front of me with wide eyes and a lot of questions. Trying not to lose my cool, I told him to go find daddy.
"Go find Daddy."
"Um... no thank you." (This is a very new phrase that I'm starting to not care for...)
"This isn't a request. Please leave and go find daddy."
"Um... no thank you." (X stands up and walks up the stool.)
"X. Do Not Turn On The Faucet."
"Uh Oh." (He turned on the faucet. He pulls the clean hand towel into the running water.)
"XANDER! Please don't. Please. Just GO FIND DADDY!"
"I just need to clean my hands!"
"No. No. No. Please. GO FIND DADDY!"
Setting the soaking hand towel on the side of the vanity, water dripping down the wood work and pooling by my feet, he continues to soak the powder room.
People, I am not at the liberty to stand up. Even leaning forward isn't advisable at this point.
I scream for Mr.
Mr. comes running.
Poor Mr. has to open the door.
"Xander! Come on, leave momma alone! What are you doing in a puddle of water?"
Xander picks the towel back up and rings out the water on each finger.
Mr. picks him up and as he closes the door, X says, "I just giving my fingers water, Daddy! They is thirsty!"
And that was the moment I realized I don't even need privacy while I have stomach-flu like conditions - one one liner like that makes me feel better than a bottle of Pepto ever would... bring on the audience of two, please.
Scratch that. Give me a little privacy and save the adorable one liners for when I come out.
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