Tara and I were at the mall last week when I decided to take Luke, Honor, and Connor to the bathroom.
The public bathroom.
Alone.
And I will go to my death bed trying to figure that one out, believe me.
I blame Tara, really. I think I may even have grounds for a lawsuit. False advertising!
I'm not sure who came up with the idea originally, but I clearly remember having second thoughts.
"It'll be fine, Steph. They can even use their own stalls."
"Really?"
"Oh, sure! And that bathroom is hardly ever busy."
Lies!!!
First of all, it was like Grand Central Station in there. Apparently, the bathroom in the food court (which was closed for construction) had the only other toilets within a ten mile radius. It felt like a page from Where's Waldo, only without the distinctive red and white stripes to help me out. It was a small miracle that I managed to come out with as many kids as I came in with...and don't think I wasn't counting heads right up to their reunion with Tara.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
It all started out innocently enough. In fact, the bathroom was empty when we first went in. I immediately went to the large stall at the end because, hey...if having three pre-schoolers in a public bathroom doesn't qualify you as handicapped than I don't know what does.
I sent Connor in first and told Honor to use the stall next door. Poor Luke was clasped tightly between my thighs as I held open the doors and stood guard. It was a bathroom, after all, and practically oozing germs from every tile.
Connor's pants were barely down when Honor called for me. I shoved Luke in with Connor and went next door.
Honor was standing next to the toilet with her panties around her ankles. She was gesturing wildly at the toilet and saying something about it flushing. I looked inside and couldn't tell if she had gone, but there was a large "pee-puddle" on the front of the seat.
"Did you go, Honor?"
But she kept whimpering and pointing to the automatic flushing mechanism behind the seat. You know, the voyeuristic kind that flush when they see your pasty backside?
There was some toilet paper floating in the bowl so I assumed she just wanted me to flush it. I hit the little manual override button.
Big mistake.
Honor freaked out and started crying. I later found out that she's terrified of those automatic toilets since they have the annoying habit of getting a little too eager and flushing on you while you're in the middle of your business.
I tried to comfort her while grabbing some toilet paper and wiping up the "puddle." I was about to put her on the seat when I noticed it hadn't flushed all the way.
Clogged!
Meanwhile, I had no idea what the boys were doing so I decided to consolidate my efforts and put everyone in the big stall together. I shuffled Honor over and was just about to go in, when an elderly woman entered the bathroom pushing an even elderly-er woman in on a wheelchair.
You've gotta be kidding me!
Of course I felt guilty for commandeering the only handicapped stall in the room, so I started to ask the ladies if they needed it. Before I could, though, the less elderly woman parked the older lady in the middle of the room and went into a stall alone.
Oh.
It occurred to me briefly that she might still need to take the older woman into a stall once she was done, but my conscience was momentarily satisfied so I jumped in with the kids and locked the door before I could change my mind.
Connor had already finished.
"Good boy, Connor! You're turn, Honor."
I knew enough from Tara to not bother with the tissue seat protectors. They either annoy or frighten Honor, I can't remember. Probably both.
I set her up on the seat and she went quickly. Thank heavens the dumb thing didn't flush.
Luke was next, only he couldn't seem to go. Not into group peeing, I suppose.
Then it was my turn. There was a reason, after all, that I agreed to this in the first place.
I started to unbutton my jeans when six little eyes caught my attention. They were all staring at me. I felt like an art exhibit...in a rather seedy gallery.
Should I send them out to wait for me? What if some creepy stranger grabbed them up?
"Um...turn around, guys."
They immediately started spinning in circles and laughing.
That'll work.
Unfortunately, spinning leads to dizziness...which leads to putting little hands on dirty walls or falling onto dirty floors.
I made a mental note to scrub their hands at the sink until they bled.
I finished my business in record time with as much modesty as I could manage, only faintly wondering if I was now the "weird aunt" for peeing in front of impressionable young kids. Of course, I would surely have gotten that title eventually, so no harm done.
When we left the stall, the woman in the wheelchair was gone. Who'd have thought an old lady with her crippled mother would be more efficient a public bathroom than I was?
We took turn washing hands, with Connor and Honor going first. A woman standing next to me, who looked to be in her early twenties, smiled and commented on how cute the kids were. She asked if they were all mine.
I blew my tangled hair out of my face, straightened my wrinkled shirt, and tried to relax the muscles in my face.
"Good heavens, no."
I told her that only one belonged to me and that the other two were my niece and nephew.
She smiled and started to reply when suddenly the lights went out. Before I could even register what had happened, they flicked on again.
I looked over and saw Honor and Connor standing on the chairs near the entrance, playing with the light switch.
Who on earth puts an accessible light switch in a public bathroom?!
"Cut it out, guys."
They both sat down immediately and I smiled politely at the woman while hurriedly drying Luke's hands off.
"Do you have kids?"
"Oh, no," she replied quickly.
And now she never will.
With that, our adventure ended. As I hustled the kids out the door, Connor made one last grab for the light switch.
"Don't even think about it, Bucko."
He snatched his hand back and gave me a sweet smile. Once we were out, Honor and Connor (and Luke, the little traitor) ran down the hallway to their mom, who was probably wondering what on earth had happened to us.
I nearly fell on my face and kissed Tara's feet when I saw her. Because, truth be told, she wasn't lying to me at all when she said it would be easy.
For her, it would have been.
She's a supermom, you see. Able to manage four young children in a single bound!
I don't know how she does it, honestly, but she is amazing with kids. Even when I add my two, she takes it all in stride and doesn't miss a beat. I've never seen a more capable and loving mom, truly. She plans her children's daily schedule with an organization that makes my brain melt. And she is always seeking to stimulate them, mentally and physically. Meanwhile, my kids watch TV all day and don't yet realize that the big glass window in the back of our house is actually a door that leads to the yard.
Tara somehow manages to keep track of her kids at home and in public, even when each of them is taking off in a separate direction. And when all six of our children are running around in a crowded play area at the mall, I know she can tell me where my kids are the moment I ask.
Mostly, though, Tara is patient. Even when she's frustrated, it's never on the scale of a normal human being. She delights in her children, for different reasons every day. And when most women would be curled up in a ball, sobbing hysterically, Tara is catching up on the laundry.
She is amazing.
And humble. I'm sure to get an argument from her about all this, but it's the truth.
You are a role model to me, Tara....about as close to Proverbs 31 as any of us can ever hope to get. Thank you for being such a wonderful mother to my beautiful nieces and nephews, whom I couldn't possibly love more. And thanks for being such an amazing friend and sister.
I love you, Tara. I really do.
But if you ever suggest that I take the kids to a public bathroom again, I'm going to kick you in the shins.
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