Pray, May I get some Privacy in the Privy?

Never, since I had children, have I been allowed to go to the bathroom in peace.

Not once, I tell you.

My Beloved, on the other hand, (along with the husbands of every other woman I know when the subject has come up in conversation) can do his ablutions in absolute privacy.

The man can even wallow in the bathtub reading a book for up to an hour undisturbed.

But, as soon as I even think about taking a shower or answering the call of Nature, the natural reaction of my children is to desperately need me for something that cannot possibly wait just a few minutes more.

Due to a design flaw (just one of the many) in our supposed award-winning-architect designed (read: male, in every sense of the word) house, if the doors to the Master bedroom and the family laundry are open simultaneously, the neighbours get a direct view into our room…and whatever’s going on in there at the time.

Worst time is first thing in the morning, when the kids duly deposit their dirty washing then just have to come into my room whilst I’m having a rinse. Yes, all too often I’ve been caught with a real ‘roo-in-the-headlights look as too late I realize my error in strutting out of the shower sans towel.

The same architect also thought it a good idea to install the type of window in the ensuite that if opened to let the steam out or fresh air in, enables the next door neighbours- and those next door to them- a clear view through too. I’m positive it’s not quite what the muppets meant when they sang about how you get to meet the people in your street, on those children’s TV shows. (Just quietly, I've never lived in the kind of neighbourhood where you meet the kind of people they do on a daily basis!)

Nonetheless, I am sure that the entire neighbourhood knows it whenever I’m ‘visiting the ladies’- if not for the aforementioned ludicrous layout, but by the accompanying “I am in the bathroom, please leave me be!” from me.

I actually started composing this blog in my head whilst parked upon the porcelain- to the strains of “Mu-um, he called me dumbhead!” and “Mu-um, can you fill up my water bottle?” and this particular chorus also included my Beloved at the door: “Are you in there? You’re wanted on the ‘phone.”

For goodness sake, let me pee in peace please!

But no, a quiet time on the pot is not my lot in life. Nor can I ever seek solitude in the shower. As for tranquility in the tub- forget about it.

So, again I pose the question: does a mother ever get some privacy in the privy?

Unfortunately every mum I’ve asked has the same answer, and it is not the same one to: Does a bear poop in the woods?!

Jx
©2009