The Worst Part of Motherhood | Mini Van Dreams

The Worst Part of Motherhood {Repost}

I originally posted The Worst Part of Motherhood back on June 7th, 2012.  It was literally my third post on my blog.  And, four years and countless bathroom trips later, things have not changed.  Though, these days the conversations are a bit more graphic – mainly about poop and pee, body parts, and other questions I wonder where the hell they come up with them (let alone what the darn answers are… thank God for Google!)  What really makes me laugh about this… I STILL do this to Nana.  I walk right into the bathroom while she is in there without knocking and get whatever I need or ask her a question.  I guess it is a kid thing.  Read on…

Don’t get me wrong, I love being a mom more than life itself. I waited a long time to be blessed with my two little bears. But, the one thing I hate most about motherhood…


I can’t do anything in the bathroom without at least one kid and usually the dog in there with me. Going to the bathroom, taking out my contacts, taking a shower, picking my nose… well, you get it. Do they have a radar for the bathroom entrance? They can be anywhere in the house and when they see me go in there I hear “Can I come too?”

The really sad part is, the dog comes in and is able to shut the door—and she does it just to escape the kids!

Unfortunately, my house is so old it doesn’t have a lock on the bathroom door. Granted, this is an easy fix… but seems like a lot of bother. Especially since it would just be a matter of time before one or the other locked themselves into the bathroom… and I would have to find the key. It would just be a hot mess. (Remind me one day to tell you the baby powder story…)

So, here is how it usually goes.

“Mommy, can I come too?”

“I guess.”

“What’s that?”

“My contact case.”

“Do you put your eyeballs in there?”

“No, I put my contacts in there.”

“What’s this?”

“Contact solution.”

“You put that in there? Is that medicine?”

“No, it’s like salt water.”

“Can I drink it?”


“What’s that?”

“My contact.”

“Does that go in your eye?”


“Can I have a cookie?”

Okay… so, you get the point. It’s even worse if you are going to the bathroom.

I’ve complained to other mom-friends. They laughed. I’ve complained to my mom. She laughed. No one told me there was no privacy anymore! Excuse me for liking to poop in private!

And, by the way, they don’t do this with daddy. Just mommy.

I don’t remember this being in the owner’s manual.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.