Tuesday, December 6, 2011
It seems the only acceptable place to lock yourself away from your children is in the bathroom. And naturally, as it much easier to excuse yourself to the bathroom, than, say, to the garage for a quick smoke (I personally don't smoke, but I might just pick around through a tool box for a bit to use up some time), you tend to take a lot of bathroom breaks. Especially on "those" days. If you haven't caught on by now, I'm not talking about anything to do with frequent urination, but rather the need of a human being to have some time to oneself. Time for quietness, reflection, a break for the senses, and time away from the noise of the house, the yard, the people to just enjoy taking a breath and hearing it come back out. The bathroom is the only remaining place where this can happen. You are guaranteed at least one trip to bathroom per day (I hope), and so you relish this idea of a moment of solitude, to sing Beastie Boys to yourself, maybe put on some mascara, or perhaps you'll just close your eyes for a quick fiver. A moment presents itself - the children are occupied, you have had a few cups of coffee - time to punch out for spell in the porcelain oasis. Yes, let the break begin. With luck, you may have a whole five minutes before they figure out where you are. Just as sigh of relief exits your wearied lips (all that hollerin' takes a toll on you) there they are. Four fingers. Under the door. They retreat. You wait, to see if you can return to your solitude, and then a plastic spoon and a marker cap come sliding into the cabinet. You sigh, wishing so terribly you could ignore it, but you know a marker cap in the bathroom is a sure sign of a marker without a cap somewhere in the house. And the spoon? Eh. You think, whatever they have done is done and will be cleaned up either now or later, forget it, give yourself two more minutes. You close your eyes to forget about the contraband under the door and then, a knock. And another. And fourteen more. "Mom? Are you in there? What are you doing? Mom?" Head hangs low. "I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be right out." A pause, perhaps they are satisfied and you can have this last minute to yourself. No. The child has simply left only to return with the other children, informing them that you are indeed in the bathroom, and will soon be emerging. They knock. And call for you. "Are you done?" You are pretty sure you can see the shadow of at least one head trying to peek under the door. You surrender, and emerge, and although your respite was brief, you do feel a bit refreshed. You decide you will just pay them back with knocking and questioning at the bathroom door when they are teenagers trying to get away and save their sanity.