Just in case you weren't clear on this point.
Should a twenty month old who decides for some unknown reason to start her day two hours earlier than usual rob a mom of the ability to poop in peace and privacy? I think not. I think a twenty month old who has plenty of books to look at, toys to play with, and a big brother to entertain her, should be otherwise unaffected by my need to escape to the bathroom for a few minutes. The twenty month old does not agree.
She believes that her right to be glued to Mommy's leg supersedes a moms right to poop...alone. She thinks my attempt at privacy is the perfect moment to scream at previously unreached decibel levels and to shake as though her entire body will explode if a distance greater than two feet passes between us. The probability of which seemed fairly low, though I must admit the dark and menacing side of me was willing to test the boundary just to see. Can you imagine that police report?
Officer: And so then, the child just exploded?
Me: Yep. I gotta tell you, I didn't think it would happen but I took one step toward the bathroom and BOOM, there she went.
Officer: Okay, just a couple more questions Mrs. Sexton.
Me: yeah, could you just uh, hold that thought. I really still need to poop.
Okay, I realize that there are places and people who don't have the luxury of indoor plumbing much less a good book to read while taking care of business. Maybe they just drop it right there in the field without a second thought as to who is watching. But I, like most of you, have been raised in a culture that builds special rooms, nice rooms with decorations, lighting, candles, and mirrors so that we can slough off our dead skin cells and dispose of bodily refuse like truly civilized people. It all seems a bit frivolous when you put it that way, doesn't it?
And yet, I have a highly developed sense of privileged justice which tells me that I deserve, no, have the right to, five minutes of solitude while maintaining regularity for my inner workings. Solitude meaning not having to hold conversations through a closed door, not having to scream threats at children who are taking advantage of the opportunity to disobey, and above all NOT having a twenty month old standing at my knees saying, "poopie, Mommy. Naaashty." yeah, I get that Bella. But you're killing the ambiance of the beautifully decorated room built for this purpose so shut up and get out kid. ;-)
I repeat. Mommies are allowed to poop.