Public Indecency

WARNING:  This post is not for the faint of heart.  Or incontinent, as it will probably make you pee when you laugh at my humiliation. . .

I should start this post on a positive note.  Hannah is potty trained.  Or, as potty trained as one can expect from a three year old.  We have done away with Pull-ups, except for at night.  We also wear regular underpants (complete with Dora and/or Disney Princesses).  Of course, her ability to hold her bladder and successfully pee in the toilet came immediately following my pricey purchase of SuperUndies.  So, if anyone is struggling with potty training their toddler, I would be happy to sell mine at a discounted price.  I think she used one pair before deciding that she didn't not like wearing them.  At the end of the day, I guess they did their job.

In spite of the fact that she is potty trained, my potty related incidents have not waned.

STORY #1:  The Vagina Dialogue

Currently, Hannah and I commute 1 hour to and from daycare each day.  Naturally, I don't trust her to hold her bladder, so I strongly encourage her to use the potty before we leave the house and daycare.  Of course, anyone who knows Hannah knows that trying to strongly encourage her to do anything is like repeatedly banging your head against a brick wall in hopes that it will crumble.  99% of the time, you will be unsuccessful.  Obviously, if she doesn't go before we leave, she usually ends up yelling at me along the way that she has to pee.

With Mikie, we could easily pull over onto the shoulder or side street and "water the plants".  With Hannah, this isn't an option (although, admittedly I did try once, but she ended up standing on the side of the road, butt naked, watching her brother pee for encouragement, to no avail).  So, on days when she has to pee, we ended up stopping at McDonald's.

Now, with Mikie, I was a stickler for using anatomically correct terms for his body parts.  So, naturally, we followed the same philosophy with Hannah.  Unfortunately, Hannah is much more vocal about her body than Mikie was.  If you happen to be outside of Hannah's stall, you will often hear her announce, "Mom, you and me are girls.  We have vaginas."  Occasionally, I hear stifled giggles from outside the stall as I tell Hannah, "Yes, but it isn't polite to talk about our vaginas."

Then comes the McDonald's experience.  We stopped on our way home to pee.  I took Hannah into the bathroom.  We took the one, unoccupied stall.  Hannah sits down to do her business, and asks me for help wiping.  I grab some of the single ply toilet paper and help pat her dry.  At this point, she starts screaming at me, "STOP, MOM, YOU HURT MY VAGINA!"

Needless to say, this time, no one was giggling.  I panicked, thinking surely, someone was calling 911 to report that I was abusing my daughter in the McDonald's restroom.  I started to defend myself to the faceless occupant of the other stall, by announcing, "No, I'm not hurting you, I'm just trying to help you" and, "I'm sorry that McDonald's doesn't buy Charmin Extra Soft."

We quickly left, called my sister, to make sure her husband, the attorney, was on notice should I need legal council, and vowed to never return to that McDonald's.

STORY #2:  Lady Godiva

Last week, the kids and I came home early to meet with an HVAC specialist to service our central air conditioning unit.  Hannah, insistent on having her "privacy" left to use the bathroom while the technician, Steve, went over some paperwork with me.  I wasn't paying much attention when she came out, making a mental note to clean out her potty when Steve left.  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Hannah, standing on the other side of Steve, attempting to take her shirt off.  As I round the table, trying to stop her, I realize that she is naked from the waist down.  Horror stricken, I tell her to go back into the bathroom and put on her underpants and shorts.  Steve chuckled and, taking pity on me, recanted some story about a mother of five who had a little boy running around naked when he came.

As mentioned above, Hannah doesn't take well to being told what to do.  So, she marched back to the bathroom, only to return, seconds later, completely naked, laughing at me as she streaked by yelling, "I NAKED!"

At this point, I hurriedly signed all papers in an effort to get Steve to leave so that I could beat. . . I mean DRESS my child without witnesses.

STORY #3:  Lady Godiva's Revenge

A few days following our HVAC experience, the kids and I returned home from work/camp/daycare.  Mikie, exhausted from a day full of soccer and swimming, had passed out in the car.  I intentionally left the door into the garage ajar, in case he woke up while Hannah and I unpacked the car.  While I made multiple trips in and out, Hannah followed me, yelling about wanting to take a bath.  Suddenly, I realized that it was quiet.  I turned around and realized that there was no sign of Hannah.  Assuming (what I thought was the worst) that she had run outside into the street, I quickly ran back into the garage.  Again, no sign of Hannah. Stepping out onto the driveway, there is my daughter, naked as the day she was born, calling to the people in the cul de sac.

Why must there always be people around to witness these embarrassing moments?

Hopefully, my stories of public indecency and humiliation will brighten someone's day.

Love, The Trahans