You Are NOT Crazy

There I sat on the floor of the bathroom at our local YMCA with both children locked into the narrow stall with me. The boy needed to use the bathroom and decided that he was going to do so while standing up – this is still something that is relatively new for him. The girl was chattering away behind me but eventually squeezed up along side of me curious as to just what her bother and mommy were doing. After a few attempts on his own to use the potty standing up, and a few undirected sprays, Jerry gave up and mommy had to help. While he was doing his business Clara did the unthinkable. You know, those unthinkable things that SURELY your child or children wouldn’t do…but you know somewhere in the back of your mind is a miniature you yelling at the top of her lungs, “you IDIOT!! You know what’s about to happen don’t you??! You can’t trust your children!!! LOOK OUT, LOOK OUT!!” I didn’t listen to my inner (stark raving mad) mother until it was too late.

Clara stuck her hand into her brother’s stream of pee pee.

:::Gasp. Ick. Ew.::: 

My yells at her echoed off of the beige walls in the bathroom and brought everything to a halt. Thankfully, no one else was in there.  She stared at me in shock, she doesn’t get yelled at very often. I grabbed her hand and held it in a death grip while I pulled her brother’s pants up with the other hand. Stinking baby. She’s cute and all, but really? PEE? I guess that the temptation was too great for her. She is very lucky that she is cute. I brought her out of the stall and cleaned up her hands. Jerry asked if he could wash his hands by himself and I ignored my inner mother all over again and let Jerry handle the hand washin’ himself while I took care of sister. I couldn’t fathom why it was taking him so long to finish his task until I watched him rinse his hands off of soap…and promptly turn to his left and load up his hands with more soap via the dispenser.


Me: We will never get out of here. I am going to die in this bathroom with these children pulling at me and climbing on me, asking for juice and to go pee pee.

I always feel like I’m yelling now a days. Yelling just as things go haywire and get out of control. Just as the child sticks her hand in the pee. It’s the verbal equivalent of Kevin Costner diving in front of the bullet for Whitney Houston in The Bodyguard (shut up) and taking the hit. Except that I don’t save the day, the child puts her hand in pee, the boy covers himself in soap and I die in a bathroom from my nerves finally getting the better of me. But I know that I am not crazy. I know that I don’t like yelling. You, mother of one, two, three, four little ones who is trying to get it all done, cleaning up those puzzle pieces from the living room floor AGAIN, pulling smushed blueberries from your daughter’s hair, read this: You are NOT crazy.

You, momma, sitting in a parking lot, trying not to have a melt down because of your sassy three-year old who insists that he isn’t taking a nap when he gets home and that sharks do talk. You, momma, that just wants to turn up the radio and cease all outside noise and not listen to your one-year old and her constant whine for juice (not the milk that is in her cup) from the backseat. You are NOT crazy. You, mother, who has asked her kids to pick up the same toys 269 times today, only to step on them again. You, who has politely requested that people clear off their dishes from the table and to put their shoes away. Who has finally gone insane, shouting orders through eye twitches and fits of rage. You are NOT crazy. You are not crazy for wanting to hide in a bubble bath…for three days. You are not crazy for wanting to take a yourself so that you don’t have to talk. You aren’t crazy when you come downstairs in the middle of the night to enjoy a bowl of cereal by yourself when the house is quiet. You aren’t crazy if you get a burger at McDonald’s and sit in the car in silence, eating it like a lion devours its prey.

You aren’t crazy.

You aren’t crazy, because you’re not. Because I said so. Because maybe if you aren’t crazy, than I can feel better because maybe that means that I’M not crazy…Right?


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