One of those moments

I have a confession to make.
Sometimes I go to the bathroom, even when I don't have to really use the bathroom for its intended purpose. Sometimes I go in, lock the door, sit down, and put my hands over my ears to block out the sounds of neediness. Sometimes I turn on the light, other times it is better to not have to look at myself in mirror, so I leave it off. I am happy to report that those days come less frequently now than before, but do happen occasionally.

Yesterday I had one of those moments. I had gone to the bathroom, this time to actually use it for something besides hiding. I left Rebecca in the kitchen in her swing. Lenna was at the table doing homework, Andrew was using the other bathroom. The bathroom I was in shares one wall with the kitchen and one with the other bathroom, so I could easily hear what was going on in the other rooms even though I couldn't see it. It started with some crying from the kitchen. Not all out wailing, but the stop and start warning cry that babies do that lets you know your time is very limited. I could hear the seat going up and down in the other bathroom, meaning Andrew was getting down to business.

Then it happened. The crying from the kitchen changed to wailing. The toilet paper roll started unwinding, followed by yells for "Mommy Cross (Andy needs everything to have a last name this week) I need you!" Lenna started pounding on the door calling my name. As the only mobile one, she felt it her duty to inform me of the distressed situations of the other two. This was followed by her own tears, as she cries compassionately along when either sibling cries now days. That instant the phone began to ring. I was waiting for the doorbell but was spared that one.

I realized at that moment, I had a choice. I could put my hands over my ears and cry. I could yell through the doors and walls to my children to just wait a minute and at least let me finish before they started demanding things. Or I could laugh.

So I did something I haven't done in a very long time- I laughed about it. Lenna stopped crying form shock and went to give Rebecca a pacifier. Eventually the toilet paper stopped unrolling (plunger anyone?). I finished, helped Andrew do the same, hugged Lenna (we will have a post about the injustice of having two crying children at the price of one later), and picked up the baby. The caller hung up without leaving a message, so it must not have been that important.

And as quickly as it began, it was done. No crisis, no lasting damage, no emotional scars from a crazy undone mother- because I chose to laugh instead.

I hope that more and more of my visits to the bathroom will be for physical needs instead of emotional ones because I have a choice, and I want to choose joy.