On Hiding in the Bathroom and The Unshakable Faith of Children

Jan 28 2012

Sometimes my children have more faith in me than I have in myself.

It’s one of the gifts – and unique pressures – of having children. Like friends, children insist on believing in you.

At least until they reach the age of disillusionment, I am capable of all things.

I am magical.

I, after all, have direct access to God and Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy and the Internet.

Which is why the bathroom is such an important place. A sacred space. A Mommy base.

Here, on the floor that’s sticky with hair spray and boy spray, I hide from the pressure of omniscience because all the bacteria know me for who I truly am – a fallible, broken creature who’s not above crying in the shower.

In my oasis, the knocking is incessant and accompanied by The Moms.

You know The Moms, right? They’re a vocal exercise of increasing frequency, volume and repetition.

“Mom.”

“Mom?”

“MOM?!”

“MomMOM!”

“MOM! Mom. MOM! Mom.”

And on and on and on. Like the Ha Ha game with Ha’s that go on forever until someone breaks. (The breaker is usually me, FYI; my children have amazing stamina.)

But in the midst of The Moms this time, I hear a new sound. An advocate in the voice of my oldest child as she hollers, “Stop bothering Mom! Just let her go to the bathroom. It’s not like she’s going to stay in there forever, you know.

Which brings me back to this…

Sometimes my children have more faith in me than I have in myself.

Which just might give me enough courage to come out this bathroom.