Public Restroom Fun, For Your Entertainment

The Doc got home at 5 last night. Let me say that again people…FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON! We had to take advantage of such a rare treat, so I hopped online and googled some good restaurant coupons. Ah ha, TGI Friday’s BOGO and we were good to go. Unfortunately it’s a good 20 minutes away without traffic and we were leaving at 5:45. But, it wasn’t too bad and we rolled in around 6:30 with a backseat of happy little girls. Amazing. After we were all settled at our table the hostess came by to ask us to move, which would have been fine by itself, but she added in the bonus of a free dessert. She had me at free. Relocation successful and good to go. It was then time to take a certain small person to the potty. The public potty. The dreaded land of unknowns. Will a rogue hand dryer foil the plan? What if there is squirming and those sweet little bunsies hit the nasty toilet water below? And yet, the little white travel potty was so far away in the below 20 degree car and Molé had not gone in 2 hours after consuming a large beverage. It was go time.

First of all, you never realize just how large the regular toilet opening is until you take a small child to the restroom. I mean, are our adult booties really that huge? Evidently, yes. Often I bring along a little potty seat, so we don’t have the fear of falling in or have to deal with small hands groping and exploring the toilet seat. But, I was going commando in a sense and it was her little tush and that potty with no go between. The first round I tried to just put her on with her pants around her ankles. No dice. Then I decided to sing a little bit of “Bad Babies” which happens to be her favorite song. She enjoyed the singing, but nothing. Alas, I gave up and we headed back to the table.

More coloring, some ordering and more time passed before I saw the tell tale sign of a shimmy. Not familiar with the term? This is a shake/shiver motion that my children do when they need to pee. As BQ has explained when I’ve called her out on the motion, “It’s okay, I was shaking the pee pees away.” Unfortunately while this technique is often effective in the short term, its long term effectiveness has a batting average of 0. At the the same time the shimmy was taking place, BQ relayed that she too needed to use the facilities. So the Doc took the ladies back. Meanwhile their food arrived and I was able to get it all set and ready for them which was actually quite fabulous. The three return and I can easily tell through eye contact with the Doc that the little one did not have success. Whatever, I decide I am going to just relax and not worry. That is until I see another shimmy 10 minutes later.

I’m on it, back to the potty. This time, I pretty much move in. We remove the pants and big girl panties, aka “bg’s” so that she can put one leg on each side of the toilet seat which ensures slightly better balance. No dice. I sing “ABC’s” and she sings along but no urine. I go back to “Bad Babies” upon her request and nothing. Then she squirms and I pull her off. I throw her around, do the upside down thing and then psych up for more. She sits backwards, she sits forwards. I sing the pee pee song, I sing the poo poo song. Nothing. Not a drop escapes her bladder of steel. By now, she hasn’t gone in close to four hours, and has downed about half of her juice at the dinner table. The clock is ticking and I am getting nervous as I visualize the cascade of urine that is sure to be flowing down the highchair and onto the crowded restaurant floor within the hour. Hmm, what to do. I finally decided that after providing so much entertainment and commentary to the 20 or so women that have passed through the bathroom during our stay, I was done. Show over and back to the table.

After another 15 minutes and yet another bathroom trip, this time with the Doc, we were about finished with our meal and ready to head out. The fabulous dessert had arrived as promised, though Molé was not given a single bite after her potty attitude. If you only knew the things that I had promised and attempted to bribe her with in those desperate moments. Good thing she’s not old enough to know the weakness this momma displayed. Anyway, I was totally done at this point and so I took Molé out to the car to be saved by the little white potty once more. We hop in and I realize that yes, the potty is about the same temp as an ice cube. I fire up the engine and place said potty in front of the vent hoping to warm it up enough. Oh success, the little one seems to accept the temperature and plops down next to me in shotgun. There she is big coat on, pants around her ankles, potty on the passenger seat, and a piece of ranch coated chicken in her hand. Whatever the reason, the chicken or the potty, I soon heard that beautiful sound that I had been longing for- that’s right, that sweet sound of a little girl opening the flood gates, because seriously there was a lot of urine, and going potty at last. The battle was over and while I can’t say that I was exactly victorious, we had all come out alive and that was a good thing.

Love the potty adventures. What about you? You know I’d love to hear your stories. This Christmas I wish for you potties that are always within reach on your outings, hand dryers that don’t freak out your kids, warm toilet seats, small toilet openings, and the sweet sounds of urine flowing into the potty and not onto your in-law’s newly refinished hardwood floors during Christmas dinner. Happy potty-ing!