Offenses in the Library Bathroom

I am at the library today.

I am at the library with Caleb, CJ, Elsie, and Dana.
Four kids under the age of five... and I am the only supervising adult.

And I love it.


Somehow all four kids fit in my sit-and-ride stroller and we make our way into the library just in time for story-time. We take a seat on our pockets and listen to the librarian explain that story time is a time to sit quietly and listen to stories. She specifically asks all parents with young kids to stay in the back - to minimize any distractions.

CJ - my growling toddler - is a definite distraction. I take the hint and whisper to the kids that I will be in the back of the room. I stand up and pace the back of the room with a heavy-gorilla-child in my arms.

I have paced the back of the room a dozen times, when Caleb comes running at me. The look on his face tells me that he has to go to the bathroom... and he has to go now. We rush to the bathroom that is located at the back of the story-time-area and we are just about to enter when I notice a big note stating that the bathroom is closed during story time.

I take a look at Caleb.
I take a good look into his eyes and I notice that his eyes are filling with fluid.
His iris is practically swimming.... and I know right then and there that this is a bathroom emergency - this kid really has to pee.

I take a look at Dana and Elsie. They are sitting at the very front of the story time circle. I consider interrupting story time (which is against the rules) to grab their cute little hands and lead them to the bathroom located at the front of the library with us... which would probably equate to wet pants for Caleb. But, I also know that leaving the girls alone to take Caleb to the bathroom located at the front of the library - is not an option.

I look at Caleb.

I look at Dana and Elsie.

I adjust the growling toddler in my arms who wants to run free.

I look at the sign on the bathroom door.


Quietly, I open the bathroom door and I venture into the family restroom illegally.
I rationalize that if we are super quiet, our against-the-rules-behavior will go unnoticed.
I really should think twice before I plunge into illegal activities.


I found myself holding Caleb on my thigh with one hand because the toilet is too high while my other hand is assisting the little-boy-who-is-scared-to-aim-on-his-own with his target practice.

CJ is on the ground.
Exploring on his own.
And he is happy.
This kid LOVES the bathroom.

CJ finds the toilet flusher and starts pushing down. Silently, my brain is freaking out about germs and noise and germs. The toilets in this library are loud and I start to consider that perhaps the loud flushing sounds are not helpful to our breaking-and-entering crimes. In an attempt to protect our secret, I stop target practice to move CJ away from the toilet when the urine starts ricocheting.

I move CJ's head out of the way.
I move CJ's head out of the way.
And I move CJ's head out of the way again..

And I realize that my arm is wet, soaked and saturated in urine.
Caleb is somehow still urinating.

Discovering the toilet lid, CJ is now trying to push the toilet lid down and it almost hits Caleb.
With one arm still holding Caleb on my thigh, I am moving CJ's head away to avoid the urine stream while simultaneously pushing the lid away from Caleb's head. Moving and pushing. Moving and pushing. My arm is moving so quickly that the purse strapped on my shoulder almost falls into the toilet.

And I am silently whispering my pleas to "stop it" and "slow down."

Caleb finally finishes his business and CJ is eager to plunge his hand and head into the toilet. I am helping Caleb with his belt with my one dry hand while barricading CJ from the toilet with an elbow.

I have less than ten seconds to wash my urinated-on-hand-and-arm because CJ is now ramming his entire body into the bathroom door... and it is loud.

I grab a towel and dump an entire bottle of hand sanitizer on my arms and hands.
Reminding myself that urine is technically sterile... but the argument does not hold.

I silently acknowledge the significance of their bathroom-is-closed-during-story-time-rule.

We walk out of the bathroom and the signs falls to the ground.
Embarrassed, I pick it up the sign and fasten it to the door again.
And the sign falls again.
I finally fasten the sign to the door and turn to face the crowd - guilty as charged.


And yes.
I enjoyed it.
Because I am doing my best to enjoy my kids when they are little.
Every single-arm-urinated-on moment.