Peek Show

In addition to many searches regarding engagement and marriage, this week someone also found this blog by typing in the phrase “peeking in a bathroom stall.”

Huh?

I don’t think I’ve written about bathroom stall peeking, as it is an action that can get you arrested in 48 states if you’re not careful.

My personal experience says that even though small children aren’t typically arrested for potty peeking, living with little ones makes bathroom privacy impossible.

Just the other day I retreated into the bathoom to hide from my kids.

It’s not uncommon for me to run a circuit through the house when the phone rings, trying to find a quiet place to complete the conversation because something about me picking the phone up, putting it to my ear and trying to talk to a human outside of arms reach sends out a homing signal to the ruffians and they immediately need my attention for any number of highly important tasks.

My favorite location these days to have a phone conversation is inside my closet with the door closed, but I’m talking about bathrooms so I’ll get back to the point.

So, the other day I hid in the bathroom and closed the door.

It took about 35 seconds for a ruffian to sense I was missing and go on a search and destroy mission.

Dos figured out I was on the other side of the bathroom door and began to tap her fingers on the door.

“I’m in the bathroom, I’ll be right out,” I called to her.

“Mama mama mama mama,” my three-year-old chanted.

“I will be right out,” I said through gritted teeth, thinking to myself: this is a joke.  I can no longer go to the bathroom because I reproduced!  She can survive without me for three minutes, I need to have some privacy!

Dos draped her body across the floor in front of the bathroom and slid her hand underneath the door.

I could see three pudgy fingers and one eye underneath the crack.

The three fingers slid up and down the door while Dos crooned on the other side.

Then they stopped and spread wide in a plea.

“Don’t you want me anymore?” Dos said pitifully.

That’s my story, a tale of bathroom peeking and emotional manipulation.

It also prompted my very firm belief that mommies deserve to poop in peace.  I think that needs to be a Mommy Bill of Right item, but I can’t think of any more items because I’m too busy hiding in the closet.

So, what about you?  Do you have any items that deserve to be on the Mommy Bill of Rights?