Peace out

When I imagined having children, I knew there would be some sacrifices. I accepted the fact that many of my Friday and Saturday nights would be spent at home. I temporarily put aside plans to travel overseas, and traded backpacking across the Irish countryside for walks around the neighborhood wearing a baby bjorn. I even shifted my career to accommodate a family life by working out a part time work week. What I couldn't have imagined or planned for are the millions of little indignities that must be endured to care for little human beings.

Today, the Little Guy and I made a trip to the grocery store. Things were going well. He was happily sitting in the cart singing and babbling and munching on crackers. I had a huge list and was relieved to only have one child with me since Girlie was back to school. About halfway through the store, I started feeling a little rumble in my tummy. Ignoring it, I pushed on determined to restock our pantry and finish my shopping. Several aisles later, I realized that I had two options: use the bathroom at the grocery store or abandon my cart full of groceries and pray I made it home in time. Not sure I could make it home anyway, I decided to use the bathroom at the store. Since I couldn't take my cart in with me, and an empty cart wouldn't fit through the entryway to the bathroom, I had no choice but to unbuckle my Little Guy and take him in with me.

I might have asked for help, but I didn't see anyone nearby to lend a hand. I wasn't sure what would be worse, taking him by myself or asking for help only to have someone standing nearby listening to the inevitable explosion I could feel brewing in my lower extremities. So I was by myself, cramps and all, in the grocery store bathroom with the 17 month old squirming destructoboy. And that is pretty much what gets me the most about being a Mom. I never counted on discarding my dignity to orchestrate a much needed trip to the bathroom while trying to prevent my youngest from touching the shiny box attached to the stall wall, pulling all the toilet paper off the roll, or worst of all, crawling out from under the stall leaving me stranded. I know one day I will be able to look back at this and laugh, especially after that same child backs the family car into a mailbox, or shows up with suspiciously red eyes after a night out with friends. But for now, I long for the days when I can just poop in peace.