Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Keeping the romance alive

You know those rules? Like never let your spouse see you using the bathroom? Whoever wrote those rules never cared for small children.

This is our very small first floor bathroom (or as E so charmingly calls it, the pot). Yeah, there are Mardi Gras beads on the floor. They're all over our house. This bathroom is across the hall from the door to the garage.

And, if the bathroom door is open, this is the view from the garage. I just sat on my car to take this picture.


So. Hypothetically. Let's say you had a frenetic afternoon at work, successfully survived only by the grace of coffee, you just picked up both girls from daycare, battled traffic, and just need to use the bathroom for two seconds. But one girl is saying Unh! Unh! whilst tugging at the front of the fridge, and the other is saying Mama! Mo-om! You said you would read a story to me when we got home! Mom! We're home! I want THIS story! and nobody at all is saying go ahead, Mommy, we'll wait patiently while you tend to your needs.

So I opened the fridge, grabbed a drinkable yogurt, stuck a straw directly through the foil top, and handed it to the unh!-er. I put her on the little white stool. I sat down to use the bathroom, while between my spread legs my younger daughter drank her yogurt, and draped on my right knee, my older daughter anchored the spine of her book in my flesh as she leaned into the door frame.

We had story time in a 6-square-foot room. You make use of the resources at hand, right?

And the most telling part: when M got home and opened the garage door to see the three of us in the tiny green bathroom, L dribbling something pink and sticky on my thighs and E's book absentmindedly being dragged through it and me reading a story to them like nothing was amiss (because let's face it, this is normal), he assessed the circumstance as just that and kissed us all, right there, and said hello.
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