Not with them with them, don’t be gross. (Unless that’s a thing in your family. I’m not judging – I just won’t do it.) One of the most challenging things about being a mom is trying to manage bathroom activities without constant interruptions. No matter how old your children are, the minute you close the bathroom door they need your attention.
With teenagers you can get even. I suggest pounding on the door and asking them about their homework, soccer practice, or whether the dog has been fed as soon as you hear the shower running. Slightly immature, but highly effective.
Younger kids never really figure it out. They want what they want and they want it now. Usually, it is your undivided attention or answers to some of life’s most important questions. I usually shower in the morning before I take them to preschool. This is my first shower – the one before my run or the gym – so it’s super-fast. I don’t shave or wash my hair. 5-7 minutes, tops. Every day. Every. Single. Day. Each of the twinkies comes in and asks if they can play the Wii.
Every day the answer is the same. “No, we don’t play the Wii in the morning.” (They would probably stop asking so much if I actually stuck to this rule every day. But sometimes they’re really annoying and the Wii is the only way to get them to leave me the frick alone.)
Reese always has to make a poop while I’m showering. Here’s the problem – his poop really stinks. I don’t understand how someone so small and so cute can produce something that smells so horrible. Seriously, I have to hold my nose.
The smell is worsened by the fact that I take really hot showers. I don’t even turn on the cold water. When I come out I’m beat read and the bathroom is very steamy. Since the smoke alarm is conveniently located right outside the shower door anyone who comes in while I’m showering has to shut the door immediately or the alarm will go off from the steam.
This morning, I’m in the shower and it is steamy as always. Reese came in (closing the door behind him) to drop the kids off at the pool. Seconds after hearing the first plop, I held my breath. It was a bad one.
I had soap in my hair and was holding my breath in a steam-filled bathroom while my 5-year-old made a toxic dump.
Jackson opened the door. I peaked my head around, let out my breath and said, “close the door or the alarm will go off!”
Jackson said, “But Mom! But Mom, I have to ask you something!”
“You can’t play the Wii. Close the door! Close the door!!” (I held my breath again, this was a marathon poop session for Reese.)
“No Mom, it’s important.”
He closed the door. So now I’m in the shower, holding my breath, with soap in my hair.
Jackson is standing next to the tub, jumping all around like a crazy-person because he has an important question.
Reese was pooping, all red-faced trying to squeeze out as much of the stench as possible.
I can barely see either of them through the steam.
Jackson said, “Mommy…how do you spell your name?”
Frick on a stick. He can’t read or write. I just wanted to take a shower…