The day mommy’s sanity finally died

All parents have secrets. It doesn’t necessarily have to be the “skeleton in the closet” type,skele or the type that, when found out, becomes the story everyone tells at family reunions for the next 50 years, but we all have them.  Little things.

Maybe you have a secret stash of closet in a place that is too high for little fingers to reach, or in a place no one would dare go (hello? tampon box?) Maybe when you say you need to make a quick run to the grocery store, you take your sweet ass time just to have a few extra moments of peace before entering the battlefield that is your home again. Perhaps you tell the kids you’ll play hide and seek with them, and not go look for them at first; every now and then you call out “where are you? I can’t find you!” just to keep the ruse alive. It’s okay. We all have one, be it big or small, silly or serious. Raising kids is tough, and sometimes we just need ONE THING. ONE DAMN THING FOR JUST US. JUST ONE! If you have more than one, you’re fucking lucky, ’cause I’m down to my very last little secret. Or…. I was.

It was yesterday afternoon. I had just returned from picking up Holden from school, Parker in tow as well (of course). There was nothing out of the ordinary about this day; we’d gone about our routine just like every single day this week without a hitch. One thing was off, though. Usually, as soon as the boys enter the house, they start fighting. It’s instant. Sometimes they even start fighting in the car. Most of the time over the fact that one of them ones to get out of the side of the car the other sits on. Yes, seriously. I know. It’s fucking stupid. I’ve tried to inform them of such, but they have yet to learn to pick their battles. Or they thought when I said to pick their battles, I meant EVERY SINGLE ONE.

The house was unusually quiet. I know for most parents, this would illicit fear, but for as sneaky as my kids are, they’ve yet to be quiet about any of their dastardly deeds. As I walked around the downstairs looking for the kids, wondering what the hell they’d gotten themselves into, I found Holden sitting and coloring at the kitchen table, but Parker was nowhere to be seen.
Hm. Odd.

The thought crossed my mind that perhaps he was as sick of the bickering between him and his brother as I was, and he went upstairs to play alone. Makes sense, right? I walked to the foot of the stairs and called up to him;
“WHAT?” he replies immediately.
“What are you doing up there?”
*grunting noises* “I’m POOPING!”

stairThis struck me as odd. We have two bathrooms. He complains about the stairs when the downstairs bathroom is occupied and he has to climb them in order to do his business; so why would he be up there now? I thought maybe the downstairs bathroom door was closed, giving the illusion of it being occupied. Holden picked up that totally ridiculous habit from his father, who I am sure closes the door once he’s done and left to contain the stench of his rectal vomit. How kind of him! But craning my neck to see the status of the downstairs bathroom door showed me that this was not the reason; it was wide open!
“Why are you pooping up there?”

There was a long pause, a long high-pitched fart, and then he hit me; not with the smell, but with my worst fear:
“‘Cause I want to poop ALONE!”

Cue cartoon-like animation of my jaw hitting the fucking floor.

My secret. My very last parental secret was out. Sure, I can make more. I can buy and hide more candy. I can go to the thrift store after getting my children-induced grays covered, just to get a little more ME time, but this last secret… it meant something to me. It was SPECIAL.

You see, it’s no secret to anyone in this household that we have two functioning bathrooms, but since most of our time is spent downstairs, that is the one that usually gets used. When the kids look for me because they realized they haven’t annoyed me in the last 5 minutes, they always look for me in THAT bathroom. Where do they never look? The upstairs bathroom. They walk right past it before searching all of the rooms and doubling back and discovering me.

The upstairs bathroom is my sanctuary! Well, it was until yesterday when Parker discovered that in order to get a full turd out without interruption, that was the place to be. Not only was it quiet, and peaceful- no one can HEAR you up there. Having a kid criticize how loudly they think you take a dump is… well… it’s not fun. Up there, no one can hear you grunt! It’s amazing what one trip to the bathroom alone can do for your general sense of mental well-being. It’s amazing what one satisfying POOP can do for your mental AND physical well-being! It was magical; it was my UNICORN, and now my unicorn had disappeared! My last stronghold in the battle for my sanity. GONE!

Many times in the past I have claimed to be my last push over the edge into total craziness, but I really mean it this time! I think this is really it! Giving me back poops in peace and then snatching it away from me again… one person can only take so much!

Hold on tight, brothers and sisters! I may have lost the battle, but we have not lost the war!
The children’s network of adorable evil is strong. They are crafty. They are devious and will hit you when you least expect it… but we have one thing on them. Size. And they still need someone to wipe their ass. If it’s all we’ve got to keep them from winning, then it’s all we’ve got!

Posted on November 15, 2013 by Holdin' Holden 1 Comment
Holdin' Holden

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1 Comment

  • Apparently, when it all got too much for the mum of John & Charles Wesley, she just threw her apron over her head and hid under there. All her kids knew not to disturb her OR ELSE. I’m thinking of trying this technique with a blanket.

    (Although I should maybe resist this urge while driving…)