Mome reads Mommy, My daughter's way to spell it when she was younger... It stuck. My son calls me Mome... just like it looks. I now sign all my notes to them "Love, Mome". It's our inside secret and makes them smile. I always want them to smile.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Praying Mantis and Bathroom Woes

The other morning I was putting away some laundry, in all the appropriate rooms, and on the way back downstairs I gathered all the water bottles and sippy cups from each of our nightstands. We all take water to bed for middle of the night thirst. With my hands full I entered the kitchen and encountered this:

It wasn't this one exactly, I wasn't that quick on my feet (to get my camera). I stood frozen, calling for help, with my hands full, as he was right on the edge of the sink and I didn't dare get too close and make him move. Hubby came and removed him to the outside of the house. It reminded me of a childhood story about a bathroom and a praying mantis. Then I was reminded of other childhood bathroom mishaps, funny how the mind works like that.

I will now share my traumatic events in the hope that they will be freed from my brain forever, or at least give you a heck of a chuckle.

Story #1

I was maybe 2.5. My parents, my brothers and I were at Meijer shopping and for some reason the boys were with Mom and Dad was stuck with me. Not stuck really, although in this situation I'm sure he felt stuck. I told him I had to go to the bathroom, he said "wait until we find your mother". I apparently really had to go and somehow got away from him. While he was looking for me he happened into the housewares department and found me (sort of) on a display toilet doing my thing. You would think he would have rushed over, relieved to have found me, but alas, he was a mortified man. He waited around the corner, "caught" me as I was coming to look for him, threw me in the cart, found my mom as fast as he could, grabbed my brothers and told my mother and I that they would be waiting in the car. Couldn't even be seen with me.

Story #2

We had a favorite restaurant growing up called Kewpies. They had the best olive burgers and onion rings. On one particular visit to this fine (read: hole in the wall) establishment, I, you guessed it, went to use the bathroom. The bathroom was a one person "closet" right in the middle of the dining area. I was old enough to go by myself, so off I headed, 5 feet from our table. I went in and had to stand on my tippy toes to lock the "latch". I went to the bathroom, washed my hands (maybe) and when I went to leave, I could not unlatch the lock. I didn't want to cause a disturbance in this fine establishment, so I sat and waited, knowing surely someone would come looking for me. It took about 30 minutes. Please don't ask me what my parents were thinking, I'm sure they were just enjoying the quiet, as I was the talker in the family (shocker, I know), anyway, they had to get the owner and his tools to take the door off it's hinges to get me out. I'm pretty sure we went straight home, without me even getting to eat.

Story #3 (the one that got this whole story started)

My father was a service manager at a car dealership. We had stopped in one day for a little visit, and I had to pee. I went into the bathroom, again a one stall closet, locked the door and did my business. Before I could finish, I saw this

blocking the door. I was quiet, very quiet. We must have been in a hurry because my parents came knocking about 5 minutes later. They wanted to know what the hold up was. I whispered "There's a thing blocking the door." They said "What kind of thing?" I said "A big green thing." and wouldn't say anymore for fear it would hear me and attack. Again, the door was removed for my release.

I think I was 15 before I was allowed to go to the bathroom by myself again.

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