A Lesson in Frustration

I took both of my children to Wal-Mart today. This would be about the third time I've taken Ben out of our house in real underwear, with Matt out of the carrier car seat (read: in my arms), by myself. The first time I was fortunate enough to happen upon a bathroom with a seatbelted changing table IN the handicap-accessible bathroom, so I strapped Matt to it when I put Ben on the potty. The second time I was not so lucky, and held (squeezed) Matt as gently as possible between my knees while I put Ben on the potty. Today, well, today ...kind of blew. Ben refused to pee before we left home, and we agreed to use the potty when we got to the store. I actually prefer it this way, because once he has peed, I know I have a good hour or so of "dry time" before he will need to go again. To kill 15 minutes of that in the car on the way to the store is a pain, and if he goes right before we leave, he won't need to go when we get there.... blah blah. You get it, I'm SURE.

So I got to Wal-Mart and discovered that the bathrooms were under construction, and so instead of being at the front of the store where they are reasonably convenient, they were at the very back, center, of the store. And the area where one might park her cart was very small. So small, in fact, that as I was parking mine, another mom blew in, jammed her cart in the area I was headed toward, ripped her much older child out of the cart, and shoved into the bathroom. Without holding the door for me, I might add. We were both displeased to notice a rather long line. Eventually she took her turn, though, and while in the stall answered a cell phone call that was clearly her husband, and complained about standing in line for "six years" to use the bathroom because "Kelly just HAD to go" and it was all the way in the "way back, center" of the store. I shifted Matt on my hip, gripped Ben's sweaty little hand, and swallowed my self-righteous "Oh PLEASE, you think YOU have it bad!" because clearly her little girl was already potty-trained enough to say that she needed to go potty in the first place, AND she was at Wal-Mart with another adult. Come on, now, take your bon-bons and complain somewhere else.

Anyway. It was finally our turn, and I noticed with great disdain that the toilet seat (which had just been used by a middle-aged woman wearing scrubs, which hopefully would have meant she had some idea about general hygiene) was wet. All over. Not drips/drops from a violent flush, but more like it was wet and someone had already sat on its wetness. So I squatted down inside this regular-sized Cheez-It box of a bathroom stall, teetering in my sandals while I balanced Matt facing out on my knee, leaning back far enough that he couldn't touch the toilet bowl, unzipped my diaper bag one-handed, pawed around for the wipes, reprimanded Ben for touching anything and everything, finally found the wipes, wiped down the seat, and dried it with toilet paper. All the while denying the fact that the blood supply to my lower legs had been cut off and I was starting to feel lightheaded, I put Ben on the potty. He said, "No thank you. We can go later." I gritted my teeth and said, "Come on, Ben, I just went to all the trouble of cleaning the seat for you, please just TRY to go potty." Nope. Nothing. Well, maybe like two drips, but come on. Did I mention that all this time I am balancing Matt between my knees? Like, tightly enough to keep him from getting away but one degree shy of making it impossible for him to breathe? Did I say that my sweet little baby was barefoot? In the bathroom at Wal-Mart? And speaking of the bathroom floor, now would be a good time to tell you that Ben hopped off the potty and ended up standing on his shorts and underwear, which would be gross enough since his shoes were likely disgusting... but when I noted the puddle of GOD ONLY KNOWS WHAT in front of the toilet, that his shorts were sitting in, I totally just compartmentalized, pulled up his shorts, and tried to collect my equilibrium to the point where I could stand up without dropping my diaper bag, purse, or child. Ben then proceeded to the back of the toilet and insisted on touching every possible surface while I tried very, very hard not to implode, all the while considering how nearly impossible it was going to be for me to lift him in any way so as to conduct a reasonably effective handwashing session.

We shopped for about 30 minutes and Matt began to melt down. Matt has never melted down in a store before. I actually said out loud, "Who would have thought it would be YOU who ended this shopping trip?" and we headed to the checkout. In poor little Matt's defense, it was his first trip with Ben next to him, in one of the side-by-side grocery cart seats, and Ben was all up in his business like, the entire time. Grabbing this from him, flaunting that in front of him, demanding this drink and that drink, wanting to hold grocery items but not letting Matt hold them... eventually the poor child just gave IN and cried out for help in the only way he knew how, which, ironically, was to ...cry.

It was excellent. Wayne's World excellent. Which is to say that it was party time. And when we all got home and went potty and took our shoes off and ate and ate and ate dinner, all was well again. But it was quite a party.