YEP! Show of hands, ladies… Don’t tell me you’re one of those whose husband never does that? If so, get off of this blog and bake him up a batch of cookies (and serve them to him in bed). When I showed that card to Bri, we laughed together, smiled at each other… It was like, we both knew that’s something he does. Every weekend. When he needs a break. But then it got me thinking… You know, it’s time for me to ‘poop’ too! In fact, it’s time all of us mamas start pooping when our hubby’s are around and the kids are out of control. Why not?
So, I tested the waters.
Last night, Mario was fussy and the boys were wild. I told my dear hubby that I needed to poop. There were no questions asked for having to take the baby and manage all 3. It was quite amazing how he whisked our fussy baby from my arms and started walking around the house with him. I walked to the bathroom, sneaking my laptop and iPhone in too and locked the door. I’m not kidding. I turned the fan on too and could barely hear Mario fussing. What to do? Yes, I seriously contemplated it. I caught up on emails, booked a Matilda Jane Party at my place, scrolled Facebook, surfed Pinterest…
I texted a friend (or two). I even read a short women’s devotion AND started next weeks ‘Meal Plan’- here’s Monday’s dinner!
I mean, do you have any clue what you can get done on the toilet seat lid in 10-15 minutes while all alone
in a locked bathroom with the fan on?
I won’t tell.
I could’ve just went upstairs by myself… but we all know that doesn’t work. And I could’ve left the house… but we all know sometimes that takes too much effort. I could’ve even asked for some alone time. HA! You’re laughing too. Here’s the best part! When I came out, there were no questions asked, no conversations to be had… everyone knew where I was and everyone knows what goes on in there. They just didn’t know my secret.
So I’m sharing it with you; we need to ‘poop’ more often. On good days, on bad days… every day. Yesterday wasn’t a bad day, I seriously just needed 10-15 minutes to myself without someone clinging to my leg, my arm, my boob, my body and/or asking me 7,942 questions that I don’t know how to answer. Like, “How do garbage trucks work?” or “Why does the moon follow the cars?”
It was so peaceful in my powder room; not one interruption. Next step… I’m gonna stash a few candy-bars and a bottle of wine under the sink.
Baby steps mamas; baby steps.
Time to poop now.