Toilet Tales, or My Life as a Series of Bathroom Stops

I think I am definitely changing the name of this blog to “The Bathroom Chronicles.” Think of all the wonderful tag lines I could have: “life down the drain,” or “pissed off” or, simply, “crap.”

Yesterday I was in a minimum of four public bathrooms. And this was with only one child in tow – Kaya. Oh, Miss Lovely Kaya, Queen of Having to Go to The Bathroom as Soon as We Leave Someplace and Are Buckled in Our Car. That’s an official royal title, right? Akin to Princess of Wales, Duchess of Windsor?

Anyways, it all started after her ballet class. I had already visited the bathroom of the rec center, where her ballet class is held, three times before we left – once for me, once for Kaya, and another time with a little girl whose parents had decided they had better things to do than watch their precious princess twirl around class in a pink tutu. When Lily told the teacher she had to pee, the teacher instinctively looked straight at me: “Can you take her? Her dad isn’t here.” She must have sensed my aptitude and skill at taking little kids to the restroom. We all gotta be good at something.

Then, after class, Siig joined us and we were all snug in our seat belts about to drive out of the rec center when Kaya announces her famous words: “I have to pee.”

“I’m not taking her. I’m toileted out. Your turn,” I told Siig, who surprisingly obliged.

Our trip to Reno, where we have to go for all significant errands, was proceeding nicely sans potty stops until we made the giant mistake of stopping for smoothies. Will we ever learn??? After smoothies, I had to get blood drawn for pregnancy purposes – 9 viles, mind you! – and of course, after asking Kaya numerous times if she had to go, it wasn’t until we were in the car that, you guessed it, she informs us while clutching her crotch with a severe grimace on her face: “I have to pee. Really bad.”

Siig’s theory is: Make them hold it so they’ll learn. So we head out of town on our way back to Tahoe. It takes about 15 minutes to reach Siig’s gas station of choice. Meanwhile, you’d think Kaya was trying to keep a baby from crowning – she’s crying and moaning and grabbing between her legs. Finally, we arrive and I whisk her out of the car and into the gas station restroom.

Back in the car, we think we are all good now. Our drive is about 40 minutes from here. But, alas, after 20 minutes, Kaya, once again, is at emergency status: “I have to pee! Really bad!”

For the love of god, how is that possible? Did you down a Big Gulp when I wasn’t looking?

We are, of course, on a road with no services. I think of pulling over and letting her pee outside, but it’s snowing and she is still in her ballet clothes and we would have to take her leotard off and she’d be standing outside in the cold, naked and squatting. I’m sure I’d get arrested by Child Protective Services for neglect and child endangerment. We forge ahead.

Fifteen minutes later we are at Kaiden’s school and Siig runs her into the bathroom. She made it, both times.

Suddenly, I find myself missing diapers. But there is a new product out there I could use. My friend just told me about the Piddle Pad, a liner for car seats made for potty training toddlers.

Think they come in adult sizes, too?

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3 thoughts on “Toilet Tales, or My Life as a Series of Bathroom Stops

  1. As they get older you forget to remind them. I took my 14 yr. old to see Wicked. First mistake- the cokes we drank at dinner beforehand. Food was slow to come but refills were abundant. We did our bathroom stop at the restaurant but went straight to our seats and waited for the curtains to rise. Just after it started she grimaced that she had to go and I told her she had to wait for intermission. Waiting was impossible; she squirmed and I couldn’t enjoy the show so I told her to go but that she’d have to wait to be let back in. Thankfully the ushers let her back in between scenes and she didn’t miss much. Should’a had a piddle pad!

    Now my elderly mother struggles with incontinence. It never stops!

  2. Wow, all these things I’ve never had to think about, piddle pads included. Maybe I’ll wait till Harper turns 3 to potty train. Just think the joy you will have soon with a 3rd in diapers!

    I’m back and reading, sorry I’ve been gone for so long.

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