Sometimes you just have to laugh at yourself...

Y'know, I've really tried hard not to be that SAHM who wears sweats and never does anything with her hair. Even if it was just the simple act of wearing "real" clothes instead of my lounge/pajama stuff all day it was a little something I could do for myself that made me feel productive and put together. Well, I've fallen off the wagon...big time.

Ker-splat!

Mornings at my house, like everyone else's out there, are a circus. I'm feeling really accomplished if I have on matching socks and have brushed my teeth, after I've gotten the boys ready to go. Pitiful, I know.

I need to get back in the habit of throwing out a fresh outfit for myself along with the boys' stuff every night.....

**Several days later**

Okay, I've tried to make an effort. I even managed to eke out a moment or three to run a hot iron over my clothes. A nice blue button down shirt and some new slacks that I'd gotten with some birthday money.

I was quite delighted that I'd been afforded such a luxury as ironed slacks (not worn out jeans, mind you) right up until I was asked in Wal-Mart if I worked there.

*SIGH*

I tried, people, I really did.

Na-na, na-na boo boo!

My bladder and I have, after many years of conflict, come to an agreement. I expect it to work properly and it....well, it laughs at me and pretty much does what it pleases. Payback for having two boys who treated it like a soccer ball while I was prego, I guess.

It taunts me.

It has the absolute worst sense of timing.

It is not what it used to be and it wasn't that stellar to begin with.

All of this goes trotting through my brain as I'm frantically trying to lug 30+ pounds of baby and carseat into the house after a non-stop morning of errands. I'm fairly certain that I heard it cackle at me as I went tripping down the hallway towards blessed relief.

Did I make it?

Did my bladder make a mockery of me?

*sigh* I'm not telling.

My Boys~

E-man~ a.k.a. "Precious"

Likes his bahbah (bottle), a clean diaper and his Mom to sing when he's fussy. His hangouts are as follows:

Mom/Dad's lap

His saucer

The co-sleeper

The Hubby~ a.k.a "Sweetness", a.k.a. "Slick"

Likes to play his XBox (but keeps it rated G while the kids are awake), is a computer/technology geek, and his wife thinks he has a nice tushy.

His hangouts are as follows:

With his family

Home office where all of his "toys" are

Work

The Bubs~ a.k.a. "The Brain", a.k.a. "The Engineer", a.k.a "Mom's GPS"

This one is the brainy type with a bent toward silliness. He's in first grade and loves to give his Mom directions while she's driving...and is almost always right.

His hangouts:

If he's not in his playroom building massive train layouts for his Thomas trains, he's at school or in the living room setting up every cartoon on the Boomerang channel to record on his parent's DVR.

There they are. My boys. I love them each and every one.

"Hear Ye, Hear Ye!"

I'm writing this from my throne (not that one!) in the land of Ifeellikecpraplandia.

My throne made of used tissues and empty Sudafed packets.

My royal robes are more in the line of old, comfy pj's and a warm throw.

My royal sceptor? Why, a t.v. remote.

My new royal decree........

The common cold is to be banished from this land by order of Anna K., Queen of Ifeellikecraplandia.

"We need a clean up on aisle 3!"

I don't really like to go grocery shopping, however, now that the Bubs is in school I can browse in relative peace. This is a great thing! No arguments, begging or temper tantrums....and that's just my behavior, never mind how the Bubs acts! *snicker, snort*

So there I am meandering through the aisles with my handy list at the ready when I start to feel, um, odd. Odd as in my ham and cheese sandwhich that I had for lunch is 'bout to take flight! Yuck. I must have turned a little green and had, I'm sure, a weird and desperate look on my face, cause a few people gave me "the eye". I didn't care one bit. Let 'em take a long look....better to be lookin' at my weird expression than a funky puddle on the floor.

I try to keep moving (anything to get away from that darn dairy section!) and focus on other things. This isn't easy for a nauseous pregnant woman to do when there's literally food everywhere. Anyway, I'm thinking about Hubby and Bubs.....this works for about a split second, but then I start to feel sorry for myself that they're not with me. Oooookaaaaay. Movin' right along. As I'm wracking my brain for another safe thing to think about, my stomach starts to churn even more. Forget distracting thoughts, Honey, I'm beggin' Jesus at this point, "Please, Lord. I really don't feel like throwing up in the middle of Wal-Mart! Help!"

At that very moment, I rounded a corner and heard, "Jeeessuuuus. Mm."

It was a short, older black lady who, even though she was shaking her head, had a smile on her face. We made eye contact and each started smiling at the other. She laughed and said, "When you can't call on anyone else, you can call on Jesus."

"Amen. That's exactly right!", I enthusiastically agreed with her. What I really wanted to tell her was, "Preach to me, Baby! Tell it!" like a friend of mine used to do when the pastor was imparting a word that spoke to her. I didn't loose that smile that she gave me.....but I did loose the nausea! Hallelujah and Thank Ya Jesus!!

When I couldn't call on anyone else, He was there to answer me in the midst of my need, no matter how big or small. It's been that way all of my life. Ain't He good, Y'all?!

And I thought to myself, "Only a man could have done this...."

*scraaaaaape, screeeeeeeech, shuffle, shuffle..........THUNK!*

That's right, y'all. The soapbox is out! As I was trying to, um, relieve myself in the local Target's restroom I composed a little letter............

To the men who design restrooms for women:

First off, don't try to deny that this letter shouldn't be addressed to you guys. For none other but a male would design and build female restrooms so ineptly. A woman simply wouldn't do this to others of her gender!

I'm tired of going into restrooms where the stalls are maybe 6 inches wide with the toilet paper dispenser at elbow level. That means I've got maybe 3 inches in which to squeeze my behind on the seat. This makes it horribly inconvenient to do exactly what I came in there to do- pee and clean up! In some cases I end up sitting sideways on the seat because things are so awkwardly placed in the stalls. This is totally unacceptable. Did they run out of rulers and measuring tapes where you come from?

And, yes, please continue designing bathrooms that should have triple the number of stalls in big venues like stadiums. I simply adore paying good money for event tickets then spending most of the time in a line waiting for one of those dang under-sized stalls. It tickles me to stand there and watch the men on the other side lope in and out of their bathroom, totally at their leisure, having spent not one moment in a long line. While I wait behind a line of grumpy, twitchy women.....and their poor kids. If you didn't catch that- yes, that was sarcasm guys!

So, bathroom designer guy, before you begin that next bathroom/venue job take a moment and ask your wife, girlfriend, sister or mother what they would like to see in a public restroom. You never know, the solutions could be simple and the payoff worth the effort. After all, most women remember the stores with decent bathrooms and tend to frequent them instead of other places with inferior facilities.

An Annoyed Consumer and Bathroom User

**Author's Note~Even though the stalls in this particular Target were poorly designed/executed, it's usually clean. Thank heavens for that!**