We're still making strides with potty training...one slow day at a time. After the first two weeks, I thought maybe the girls weren't quite ready, or maybe I was just a really crappy (pun intended) mom with not enough gusto to keep up with the rigor of teaching two human beings how to properly potty. But after talking with some of my mommy friends, it takes a while for a little munchkin to become fully potty trained (surprise!) Sometimes weeks, months or heaven forbid, years. So, we're taking it easy (no pressure, no timers, but of course, we've stuck with M&Ms) and things seems to be moving in the right direction. Until then, my 3 Day Potty Training book is gathering dust on my hard drive.
With these new potty habits has come a love-affair with public restrooms. At first, I was taking them into the public restrooms just to get them used to using the potty wherever we were, but now it's become a phenomenon. Publix, the Library, Ann Taylor LOFT, Target...you name it, we've checked it out. So when they asked to go potty today during our shopping trip to Bass Pro Shops, I wasn't surprised.
I pushed our tandem stroller into the restroom (which is about as long as a Grand Marquis), and with the help of a six-point turn, rolled that bad boy down to the last stall. Much to my chagrin, I noticed we would be sharing the facility with someone else. Bless her heart. In an effort to shield this lady from the potty circus that's about to go down, I say a quick prayer that she's wrapping up her business and will be out of there before I finish a complete sanitization of the handicapped stall (which is obviously applicable to moms potty training twins - duh.) Just as I'm done bleaching, steaming and properly covering all exposed surfaces (an exaggeration, sure, but not far from the truth), I hear this sweet lady "settle in and get comfortable." Oh no. Lady, you do not want to do this right now. I turn to L&M who are quietly sitting in their stroller with eyes as big as golf balls. And before I can wipe the sweat from my brow, the games begin.
I'm careful to not let the prayers running through my mind, slip out of my mouth. Not all of the bleach wipes and seat covers in the world were going to help me out of this situation. I know this poor lady had to have been stressed to the brim. No one likes to be disturbed in their moment of the day, let alone by a cheerleading mom and her brood of toddlers. So, I proceed like nothing is going on...even though L&M can smell fear like a Bloodhound. I hoist Maisen on the potty first and no sooner than I get her up there, Laiten begins heckling.
"Mommy - is that little boy peeing?" (The woman was wearing checkered Vans...boy shoes, apparently.)
In my most positive and cheerful tone (a permanent potty training fixture), I tell her that this is where all big girls come to potty, and what an awesome job they were both doing right now by telling mommy they had to potty! However, I soon realize I'm getting ready to fight a losing battle. There was an early fireworks show starting in the next stall.
"MOMMY!!! THAT LITTLE BOY IS POOOOOOOOPING, MOMMY!!"
"MOOOOOOM - I DON'T WANT TO PEE PEE IN HERE IF THAT LITTLE BOY IS POOPING!!"
For those of you who have toddlers, you know they never say anything just once. They both were chiming in on repeat until it sounded like a ritual chant coming from our stall. Nothing I was saying could even begin to drown them out. I could feel the sweat rolling down my back, and I was choking down laughter that I knew would be unstoppable if I let it out for even a second. I didn't know what was worse - the fact there were calling her a little boy, or that they were announcing to the world that she was takin' care of business. Either way, I know she was wishing she had chosen another time to take her 15 minute break. And I was silently pleading with my children to not take three hours each to tinkle five drops into the potty.
After we hustled through two potty breaks, the circus of washing hands and getting back into the stroller, we were out of there with smoke coming off our tires. We headed to the checkout to buy the two rashguards we came for, but no one was manning the register. Finally a guy came over to help us out. I was signing the reciept when the cashier came hustling over, muffling a "thanks" to the guy for covering for her. I glanced over at her and don't know why, but took a look at her shoes. Checkered Vans. We had come face to face with the Phantom Dooker. We knew it was her; she knew it was us. We shared a smile and I made a beeline for the door.
Never a dull moment in world of potty training.
