One bright sunny afternoon when the birds are happily chirping outside my open window and it is not too hot, nor too cold, I am with my children playing in the living room.  I look at the tiny humans who have filled my life and living room with blocks, balls, stuffed animals, a Thomas the Train Take and Play, a small nonfunctional (but realistic sounding) Little Chef kitchen, both a Pillow Racer and a Buzz Lightyear ride-on toy, and so much more.  They are playing with each other in that special way they have, communicating sometimes without words, laughing when they aren’t beating each other up with a ferocity a UFC fighter would respect.  Our dogs are playing out back and our cats appear to all be sleeping on their cat tree.  An idyllic, if slightly messy, day of parenthood.

My slightly vague ‘fifth-episode-of-Bubble-Guppies-in-a-row-don’t-hit-your-sister-with-that-toy-firetruck’ mind, gets the signal from my sacral nerve that it is time to empty my bladder.  I look slightly nervously at my children, who seemed occupied by their game of my oldest child sort of gently pushing his sister repeatedly into and away from the wall as she sits atop her Buzz Lightyear toy.  Neither are looking at me.  A tiniest germ of hope fills my mind.  Could I really pull this off?  It would be an historic moment, if I could make it work…

Thinking of the possibility, I dare to begin to dream…the idea starting small and slowly building steam in my mind.

Could I actually leave the room unnoticed and make it all the way to the bathroom and…

(drumroll in my mind)

Pee alone?

I don’t let myself become too attached, for the crushing fear of disappointment.  But, like climbing Mount Everest, if you don’t take the first stride, you will never taste the victory of success!  I take a tentative step, and then another.  No loud cries urging me to “wait!” are announced, nor do I see a little eagerly crawling diaper-clad body…

To have a bodily function without a quiz of, “What are you doing?” followed by the ever popular, “What’s that?” is the stuff of my life pre-children. I honestly don’t know how long it’s been.

I make it all the way to the bathroom doorway, one careful step after another.  I pause, looking around, wanting to savor the moment, but not for so long I blow my chance, metaphorically leaving my Golden Ticket in the pocket of pants I sent to the dry cleaners.

I savor the thought of peeing alone, and without explanation of which particular bodily function I am undertaking at that particular moment.  The moment is upon me.  I pull down my yoga pants, anticipation settling in…

“MOMMY!”

And here lie the shattered remnants of my dream, lost in the immortal words, “Mommy’s making pee pee.”  Maybe next year…