Lately I’ve been worried that I don’t have anything to write about. Nothing funny seemed to be happening in my life. There were a few minor things, like the night I woke up in a cold sweat because I dreamt I delivered twins. I don’t know which was worse, the fact that now I had four kids or that my husband named them Darren and Carmen without asking me my opinion.
And of course, my collared kitty has provided me with some comical material, but lately it’s been mostly her throwing up on the carpet and everyone in my family walking by it or over it until I clean it up. That’s really not that funny.
Thank god for public bathrooms. My kids + public toilets always = comedy.
Yesterday, while Siigo spent an hour in the Verizon store shopping for a Droid after becoming completely frustrated with his iphone (note to others: when AT&T tells you that you won’t get service in your area, you should probably believe them), me and the kids sat in a nearby Starbucks waiting for him. While I am no big fan of Starbucks, I have to admit the people watching was amazing. We were in Reno, after all. For those who are not familiar with the Biggest Little City, I can best describe it by saying it yearns to be like Las Vegas but is really more like some Podunk town in Oklahoma with a sprinkling of a cool street or two interspersed with trailer parks. The majority of customers in Starbucks were teens wearing skinny jeans with hoodies or leggings – either way, they were basically wearing tights and forgot to put a skirt on. I thought they looked ridiculous, a sure sign that I am getting old.
After my children consumed numerous cups of hot chocolate, water, chocolate milk, and vanilla milk – surprise! – they needed to use the bathroom. Kaiden proclaimed it was his turn first, and forbid us to go in the bathroom with him, but of course I had to promise him I would stand right outside the door. By this time, the teens in the tight clothing had started queuing up for the bathroom. I informed them they were in for a long haul and advised them to use the men’s restroom, but they declined. Fine, suit yourself, but you’re going to be waiting a long time. I’d hate to see you wet your pants and then try to peel those tight things off of you. Then again, that would definitely amuse me.
Fortunately, Kaiden only had to go number one, so he was done relatively quickly. Now it was Kaya’s turn. Of course, she had to poo, and of course, I had to stand right outside the door again, waiting. I entertained myself by watching one of the teenagers play pat-a-cake with a boy. I asked her again, “Are you sure you don’t want to use the men’s bathroom? This is going to take a while.” She said she was sure. I guess she was using this waiting time as an excuse to flirt. Maybe she also needed to come up with a game plan about how she was going to get her pants off to pee. I’m sure it took some heavy machinery to squeeze her into those things.
15 minutes passed. I was becoming anxious. I glance nervously at the teenagers. They seemed to be preoccupied by their hormones. Finally, after some heavy grunting coming from inside the restroom, Kaya yells out, “I’m done!” I walk in to find her with her hands up against the wall, like she’s waiting to be frisked by the police, except her pants are still around her ankles. This is my children’s self-imposed wiping position. I have my hand-cuffs ready in case she gets out of hand.
Finally, after I take a quick pee, our bathroom business is over. We walk through the door, and I turn to the waiting adolescents. “I think they keep the shoe-horns behind the sink.” The girl gave me a quizzical look, rolled her eyes, and went in the bathroom. One day she’ll learn that double caramel Machiattos with whip cream and skinny jeans don’t mix.