Hey! There is a lock on this door!

Do you know it has been about 8 years since I have used the bathroom by myself?

It has never really bothered me until recently. I had so many problems when I was pregnant with boy child, that I usually needed help from the husband, so he had to be in the bathroom with me. After I had said child, I couldn’t stand to leave him alone, so I would bring him into the bathroom with me. Now, I can go all day without the kids wanting to talk to me and as soon as my ass hits that seat, I have kids standing at my feet asking me a battery of questions.

Today, I have been around the house doing various things and the kids have been kind of following me. I go to the play room to put the laundry in the dryer and they all move into that room or I go into the kitchen to do the dishes and they move into that room. They are not interacting with me, they just want to be in the same room as me. That’s ok, I don’t mind.

Well, the urge to well….you know…..#2….came along and I snuck out and headed to the bathroom which is at the end of the hall and in my bedroom. I am sitting there enjoying my private time when I here “Mama?”, “Mama!?!?”, “C’mon guys, let’s go find mama.” So here I am, sitting on the damn toilet and here come the troops to keep me company. I am scrambling to finish before they get back there, searching for something I can use to snag the door handle so I can pull the door shut. Just as the kids are forming a half circle on the floor in front of me to start discussing the wonders of the world, I am saved (so I think) by the husband.

In comes daddy to shoo the kids away and tell them “to give mama some privacy” and as the kids run off, he leans against the counter and says “whatcha doin’?” The sarcastic bitch in me was just fighting to stay contained and as my stomach made that horrible noise that it usually makes right before…..well……you know……I blurted out “I’m taking a shit, do ya mind?”

Ah….the beauty of motherhood.

Hey, now don’t e-mail me with your “that’s disgusting” e-mails. We all shit. It’s funny, really. Imagine, Cindy Crawford shits; Brad Pitt shits; YOU shit….

Ah shit. I’ve gotta go to the store.

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