A Hasty Evacuation

So, this is going to be sorta embarrassing, but if you all are going to be my friends, you might as well know:

I have bowel issues.

As a favor to the squeamish, I won't go into detail. When I gave birth to Adam, I had the urge to push and had to "hold it" for 10-15 minutes until the doctor got there. I kept telling them "the baby is right there!" but the nurses kept saying that the doc would be there any minute. By the time he finally got there, I didn't even have to push. Adam just slithered out on his own.

My pelvic floor has never been the same since. I don't know for sure, but I think that having a baby's head stuck down there for all that time, trying to get out while I was trying to hold it in, really screwed up my muscles' ability to properly do their jobs.

The result has been that when I realize that I'm going to have to make a stinky, I have less than five minutes to find a restroom. Five minutes is actually quite generous. Sometimes the thought process goes something like this: "I think I need to - yep! Outta the way!"

I'm not writing about my bowel issues as the main point of my blog, however. The point of the blog is the lamentable lack of easy access public restrooms. I can tell you which stores have restrooms, how many they have, where the restrooms are located and if you need a key to get into the restroom. I can't tell you how many times I have asked to use the restroom only to be told that there is no public restroom. I wonder: doesn't the look in my eyes say it all? "I will crap my pants, right here in your store, if you do not let me use the bathroom RIGHT NOW!"

It's embarrassing. I always find it handy when I have one of my kids with me so that when I inquire about the facilities I can give a little head nod towards my child. People are much more willing to let you use the WC if they think that it's a kid that needs to go. Because kids sometimes have accidents. But apparently adults are supposed to be above that. Boo.

In addition, I am one of those people who does not like others to know that I am pooping. Everyone poops. It's a scientific fact. Some people really enjoy it. Some people don't care for it. I am neither of those, but I do like my defecation to be private. I am (or used to be) the sort of girl who would sit in my bathroom stall and hold it until I was the only one left in the bathroom. If I couldn't hold it that long, I would strategically use toilet flushes (mine and others') to cover up any sounds. I also purposely pick the most isolated cell. It weirds me out to poop with someone sitting two feet away from me, even if we are separated by a wall. I'm always annoyed to go into a restroom with five or six stalls, all of them empty, pick one, and then have someone come in and take the stall right next to me. Come on, ladies. Give a girl some privacy, will ya?

Regrettably, the current situation of my pelvic floor no longer affords me the luxury of discretely pooping. I dash into a stall and let it all go, whether I'm alone or not. Some would think that it would be liberating. I am not numbered among those "some."

In addition, we only have one bathroom in our house. At times I have hovered over the toilet, waiting for the current occupant to finish.

Sorry kids. Mommy has to go. NOW!