Public Bathrooms

I am not one of those mothers who is completely grossed out by a public restroom.  Are they my favorite place to spend time in? Certainly not.  However, my children are those kids who peek under other people’s stalls, open the door while I am on the toilet, or find it necessary to not only touch everything in the bathroom, but also lick everything while we are in there. Yep, that’s right.  My princesses use their tongues in the same manner in which a bug uses its antenna.  Each girl has a variety of sensory issues and putting things in mouths is merely a way to achieve their desired oral motor input.  Nonetheless, it grosses me out because their tongues probe out as we walk by cars, glass doors, and things found in public bathrooms like small pools of water remaining on top of a counter.  

One of my most tender public bathroom memories occurred shortly before the birth of Prince Doodie Diapers.  My bladder is approximately the size of a humming bird’s, but during both my pregnancies, it shrunk down to the size of a lady bug’s.  I was hugely pregnant at that point in time and had to go to the bathroom approximately every 45 minutes.  While out grocery shopping with my daughters both Princess Poopie Panties and I had to go to the bathroom, so I paid for all our groceries and we all made the trek over to the restroom.  This particular bathroom only had only stall and it was occupied upon our arrival into the stench filled room.  I was hoping my daughters would not notice the disgusting odor, but because their senses of smell are so heightened (again, another sensory thing) I knew they would.  I immediately could pin point the age of the woman in the stall based upon not only her beige colored,  Velcro orthopedic shoes worn only by octogenarians, but also because of the smell of her poop. As a child, I hated using the bathroom after my grandmother pooped because the smell would make me gag beyond belief.  I vividly remember her poops smelling like stale Cool Ranch Doritos.  I know this smell may seem rather specific, but it was pretty dead-on.  I can’t look at one of those blue Dorito snack bags to this day without having a little bit of throw-up hit the back of my gagging throat.  Well, the public bathroom had that same stale smell on that day and my princesses immediately began questioning the odor.

“Mommy, why is it so stinky in here?”

“Mama, what is that smell?”

“I really have to go pee pee, Mama.”

“God, Mommy why does it smell so bad?”

“Mama I have to go pee-pee right now.”

“What is that smell?”

“Is there someone in there?”

“What is she doing?”

“Mommy, why is it so smelly?”

The woman in the stall began to grunt and groan as she is trying to work out whatever it was she was working out. Perhaps she had Mexican the night before and the aftermath hit her while out doing her grocery shopping. Either that or she was giving birth to a goat.

Their questions began hitting me like rapid fire that I did not know how to answer them other than trying to “Shush” them.  As I was being attacked by not only the horrific odor, but also their questions that I couldn’t answer without laughing out loud, I proceed to put my tent-sized maternity shirt over my mouth and nose to (1) protect myself as best I could from the smell and (2) prevent the girls from seeing me laugh.  I sing this song in my head when I don’t want to laugh out loud in inappropriate settings, such as when I hear someone fart upon bending over. It’s the theme song from The Never Ending Story, one of my favorite movies from my childhood.  It’s something I have always done since I was a kid and I still sing this song to myself when I am trying my best to keep my laughter hidden.  At that point in time I was singing the song over and over in my head with my shirt over half of my face and the tears begin rolling. “Mama, mama why are you crying?” my concerned Princess Dingleberry asks.  Princess Poopie Panties really has to pee at that point, as did I. I wanted to tell them that I was crying because terrible smells sometimes make your eyes tear, but also because sometimes when you try not to laugh you cry instead.  But I could barely get my words out.  Instead, I tried to vacate the bathroom as quickly as possible.  “We need to leave now.” “But I have to go pee-pee.” “We have to go home.” “But why, Mama?”  Princess Poopie Panties began crying as I quickly shoved them out the bathroom door because she realized was was not going to be able to relieve herself.  I was crying because I am laughing so hard inside.  My other daughter continued to loudly question as to why the bathroom is so stinky.  It was quite the ordeal.

Princess Poopie Panties cried the whole way to the car and I took my first breath in about 60 seconds once we got to the parking lot.  At that point I was laughing so uncontrollably, while tears poured down my face that I must have looked like an absolutely crazy lady.  Thank goodness I keep a spare potty in the back of our chariot so Princess Poopie Pants was able to pee before going home.  I, on the other hand, had to hold it in until we got home.