When I became a mom, I knew that there would be a lot of things I would have to give up. I'm sure that on some level, I knew that privacy in the bathroom was one of those things. Alas, much like so many other things associated with motherhood, I didn't really "get it" until I was in it neck deep and it was too late. The other day I was alone in my restroom, contemplating the mysteries of the universe when the French doors flew open and my daughter burst into the room. "Mom! My arm itches so bad! You have to put some medicine on it before I got to bed!" She held up the limb in question to reveal an area of what appeared to be mild eczema. Used to the interruption but still slightly annoyed, I said, "Go get me the eczema cream that I use on the baby." She returned, I applied the cream, and sent her on her merry way. Or so I thought.
About the time I turned my attention back to the task at hand, the French doors flew open again. "Mom! Mom! You have to get off that toilet and come look at the dog!" "What?" "You have to get off that toilet and come look at Zoey! She's sitting! I've never seen her sit before! Hurry!" I sat there for a moment and contemplated the humor of the situation and the earnest look on her face. "Would you mind if I got done using the bathroom first?" She looked surprised, then replied, "Oh, well, okay!" She took off again, leaving both doors standing wide open as usual, because really, who needs privacy? And with that, I came to believe with certainty that the person who designed our home was a man. French doors on a bathroom with no lock...definitely not the creation of any mother in the world!
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