Don’t follow me

My legs quivered as I suspended myself above the toilet bowl. No touching the seat! Just a careful pee session.

Then it happened.  Gas slipped out. 

Why. Do. I. Have. This. Problem. 

I wiped myself and went through the motions of zipping, buttoning, adjusting and flushing. All that time passed and the putrid fart odor remained trapped in the stall.  

Damn. 

The door swooshed open to announce the arrival of two co-workers.  I stood exposed at the sink, obviously the only culprit. 

One of them entered my stinky stall. 

My stomach flipped. There was only one thing I could do.

Run!

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Intruder

Relief rushed through my body as a steady stream escaped my nether region. As my bum hovered precariously over the toilet, I heard the door swing open. Footsteps clicked and clacked until the very next stall door snapped into place.

What? Seriously? A billion open stalls in the empty bathroom and someone goes right next to me??

I scowled at the heels shuffling nearby on the floor.  I held my breath and grimaced while squeezing my butt cheeks tight. Please please don’t fart. Why, oh why did I drink that cup of milk. Lactose intolerance is a real thing!

It might be someone from my departmemt.   Heat scorched my cheeks and I felt a sweat break out. I finished peeing and patted myself quickly. 
Panic set in as I worried about whatever accidentally slipped out earlier or worse – smell whatever odor they unleash from pulling down their pants.  

Omg. Does my pee smell like coffee??  I tripped in my attempt to flush with my foot, fly out of the stall and wash my hands before the intruder could see who I am. Run! 

I tore at the paper towel dispenser and bolted out the door just as I heard the stall lock slide. 
Aaaaaaaand she’s SAFE!

That’s how they say it in baseball, right?

Mom’s Don’t Poop

I am pretty sure I haven’t had a real poop in ages.  I mean, how many parents can really find time to poop in peace?

At bedtime, it can take a gazillion years for them to fall asleep. When they finally shut their darling little eyeballs, I barely function well enough to brush my teeth. So, how could I possibly make it to the bathroom and coax my body to perform on demand? Not me!

You really have to go when your body is ready. Miss that urge and POOF! It will return again the absolute worst time.  Standing in the grocery store, having checked off item number three out of twenty. Or driving your kids to practice, without hope of a decent private bathroom for HOURS. Worse, getting caught by another parent when a super strong wave hits:  “***poop now-poop NOW – POOP NOWWWWW***.”

I don’t know what happens to anyone else, but I feel my face flush.  Not a toilet flush – my face flushes.

My bodily functions are a private matter.  But sometimes, I share it with my kids. And they just happen to be young and unaware of the word ‘discretion.’   “Oh, well my mom said she has to poop so we can’t stay.”

Yeah.  That happens.