• J Mess


When you gotta go, and someone's gotta come with you.

I've learned a lot about being a mom in a relatively short amount of time. I guess having a baby is sort of a trial by fire. You literally get thrown into the deep end of motherhood. Here's a kid, he's yours forever, good luck. I probably should have considered borrowing one from a friend to practice beforehand so poor Nathan didn't end up being the guinea pig for my next child. But alas here we are.

The thing that always surprises me the most about being a mom is the constant on-your-toes thinking and problem solving that becomes like a daily ritual. Sometimes you don't have a choice but to adapt. You can't do things the same way you used to before you had kids, i.e., the easy way, so you have to come up with a new solution. Quickly.

Like going to the bathroom.

We've talked a lot about babies going to the bathroom, but what happens when you, the only caretaker in the house, really have to go? What are you supposed to do with the baby?When my son was a little younger, I used to leave him in his car carrier and position it right in the bathroom doorway so he could see me, because if he couldn't see me, he'd cry. And I obviously couldn't hold him while I was on the toilet, although I did attempt that once, and let's just say it's not something I recommend. But now that he's on the move, there's really no where to "put" him. So when I had to use the bathroom the other day, I was hoping we could have an adult understanding. Seems reasonable right? You sit here and don't move, and I'll be right back. Capiche? Not so much.

Within seconds of me running into the bathroom, he was headed toward me at full speed army crawl. Making a beeline for the bathroom with his sights on climbing right into the cat's litter box. I struggled to prevent this outcome while also accomplishing my initial goal of, well you know, going to the bathroom. Unfortunately I was not successful. At either task. Now what? Maybe I should hold it in? No. Gotta find some other solutions here, keep thinking. Maybe I should use a different bathroom that doesn't have a litter box? Worth a try. So upstairs I went, dragging the baby to a place that maybe he could behave for a precious minute. Not so much.

I placed him on the floor in the hallway where he could see me in the bathroom, and made a break for the toilet. Next thing I know, he was also in the bathroom closing the door behind him, and within seconds attempting to eat the cap on the bottom of the toilet. Gross, kid. I wrangled that out of his mouth and he proceeded to sit down and pull open all of the bathroom drawers and smack himself right in the face. Next he opened the cabinet under the sink, located a roll of paper towels and unrolled the entire thing all over the bathroom. Crap. (Interesting choice of words.)

This is ridiculous. Now I understand what moms mean when they say they can't even go to the bathroom by themselves. Should I wait until he's asleep? Should I look into wearing adult diapers? Should I leave him in his crib to scream? I know there has to be a better solution I haven't thought of yet. And then it hit me. The solution was in the one bathroom I hadn't tried yet. Who needs a pack and play when you have a gigantic jacuzzi tub you never use. Genius. Now someone hand me a newspaper...


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