Adventures In Pottyland

Before I write anything else, I must give a hearty congratulations to Meghan and Zack on the birth of their brawny baby boy, Baby H, a couple of weeks ago (click here to see the announcement and check out the amazingness that is Zack's OneLight photography workshops), AND to my dear friends, Jessica and Micah who just welcomed their sweet little girl, Baby J, into the world *this* afternoon!

Hooray for mamas and babies!

Anyway, on to my far-less-exciting news of the day. We're at the Poo-Place again, listening to the girls screech their way into exhaustion. Yay.

Ironically, speaking of poo and other bathroom activities (I actually didn't think about this before I wrote the previous sentences), we had a major bathroom-related adventure right before coming here, and I thought I would share.

So, we went to Outback for the first time in a YEAR for an early dinner. *Now* I remember why we haven't eaten there in a YEAR.

Yeah. We won't get into the patheticnness of the service, meagerness of the food, and as the Daddy put it, "the combined IQ of like, eight," for the entire wait staff.

But as per usual, in lieu of eating her dinner, Little Ladybug had to "go to the westwoom" about three quarters of the way through dinner. And according to her, it was rather urgent. And of course, KayKay had to go as well. Of course.

So off we rush to the potty, which is literally in the furthest corner of the restaurant from where we were sitting. Jogging the whole way, because, as I mentioned, the Ladybug conveyed urgency.

We get to the bathroom and rush through the door... To a line. A LINE. Granted, it was a line of only one other woman (who was doing a urgent potty dance herself), but still. When a three-year-old says "NOW," in regard to the potty, there is no time for LINES. *Sigh* There are only two stalls, and one of them has a mother in there with a toddler.

Soon as we get in line, I ask her if she can wait, and she answers with a perky little I-didn't-really-have-to-go-that-bad "Uh-HUH!"

But then KayKay chimes in that she has to go BAD. Great. *Sigh*

I pray for expediency.

Time slows to a snail's pace. A dead snail's pace.

Five minutes later, we are still waiting for someone to exit one of the stalls. Eventually, the mother and toddler make their way out, and the dancing lady in front of us moves at near light-speed into the stall. By this time, there are four more females in line behind us.

Two minutes after that, dancing lady exits the stall, looking much more relaxed and able to function (the second stall is STILL occupied by the person who was in there when we arrived) and we scoot in behind her. I am eager to move in and out quickly given the line, but am also now feeling "the urge." Yay for small bladders.

I strip the Ladybug down and fling her on the toilet because I figure the nonchalance was a gimmick and we're really on the verge of an accident. Which I don't want to deal with, considering this is the one time we don't have extra clothes with us.

Nothing.

Not even a single drop.

Thirty seconds later, she's swinging her legs and singing a potty song. Still nothing. I sternly ask her if she has to go, to which she replies, "It's cooooooming! There's pee-pee cooooming!"

KayKay is dancing now. She really does have to go. Poor kid.

I warn the Ladybug that the whole reason we're in the bathroom is because she said she HAD to go, and if she didn't go, she was going to get into big trouble because it's dinner time, not playing on the potty time.

Singsong voice, "I know! But there's pee-pees in there!"

It's been at least two minutes by now and nothing from the Ladybug. I can hear the line outside growing by the second. And the person in the other stall is STILL building their spaceship. Or whatever it is she's doing in there.

Finally, I tell the Ladybug that she has until the count of five before I remove her from the potty so KayKay can go. I get to three, when a tiny trickle starts. And stops. And starts again. *Sigh*

I ask her - really more asking myself - if she only has to go under duress. To which she replied, "Mommy, I'm not wearing a dress, I'm wearing PANTS! Silly Mommy!"

Laugh it up. I did. But that's not all. Oh, NO. It gets more fun.

So the Ladybug finishes up and (to my great relief) the other stall empties of its enterprising occupant, so the line isn't being held up by us any longer. *Whew* Although I'll admit that it makes no sense to me why I felt that the line was waiting on us. But whatever. Moving on.

KayKay flings herself onto the potty and manages to get out at least a gallon before she finished up. At which point she grabs a wad of toilet paper worthy of its own gravitational pull. And uses it. All.

Right before deciding that she has other business to do. Number Two related business. That finished, she promptly grabs a piece of toilet paper so small that you'd need a microscope to properly see it. And uses it to wipe (if you can call it that) before I can stop her.

By this time, I had to use the restroom myself pretty seriously. We'd been in there for what felt like an hour already, and after all the excitement thus far, can you blame me? I finally got KayKay's cleaning situation somewhat under control before I swept her off the toilet and settled in to do my thing. Ahem.

At which point the Ladybug immediately announced, "Mommy, you have a BIIIIG hiney! It's SO big! Hee-hee!" As if my ginormous posterior is the funniest thing in the world. *HUGE Sigh* The twenty-odd occupants of the bathroom now assume that my rear is on par with that of an elephant's or perhaps the size of a small yacht. Wonderful. Thankfully, I don't know any of them.

However, KayKay decided to take it on herself to defend me by putting an end the hiney talk, which I appreciate. But how she did it was certainly NOT appreciated. She reached forward and slapped the hand, the one which she had used to finish her business, the one which was NOT YET WASHED, over her sister's mouth.

God help! Can we say, gag reflex?

Sometimes, I wonder why I even bother trying to teach them about germs. I mean, I have slathered both of them in probably gallons of the antibacterial stuff and have given dozens of creatively illustrated lectures on germs and bathrooms and hand-washing. Did I bring the antibacterial stuff with me this time? Oh, NO. It was urgent. And so the hand gets slapped over the mouth.

We spent at least another hour in the bathroom washing our hands.

Ugh.

I call it an adventure, because compared to the time KayKay "washed" her hands in a public toilet, the germs in this one were all fun and games. Let's hope (I'm praying fervently) that there's not another one. Ever.