Getting Real With Veronica Ibarra

I’m pretty sure every mother can relate to the idea that privacy is a luxury.  It never fails. I can be totally available the entire day to my children, but the moment I head to the bathroom for any reason that is the moment they descend without mercy or courtesy. Manners are what they demonstrate for others, but somehow the lesson is lost when it comes to me.

I long for the days of an uninterrupted shower or that long luxurious bath I once indulged in so often. It doesn’t matter how quick a pee break I need there will be a child banging on the door or barging in.

My favorite is when I explode, “GET OUT!” and the response is, “I just wanted to ask…”

I am mystified by the fact that the question, whatever it is, doesn’t occur before I head to the bathroom, and can’t possibly wait until I’m done. Is the universe going to implode if the question as to whether a cookie can be had now is not answered? Did my child not want to watch a cartoon before I closed the bathroom door?

This is one of the mysteries and frustrations of motherhood I have yet to unravel.

But it isn’t just them. There is my husband, too. I love the man, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not one of those people who are comfortable doing everything with their partner. Sometimes taking a shower overrides any interest in friskiness or conversation. I just want my shower to be a shower.

I’ve heard of the concept of being touched out, which many mothers feel. For me there is also being what I call thought out. I just don’t want to answer one more questions for anyone about anything. I want to be alone inside my own head for an hour and let my vocal cords rest. I want to take a hot bath in silence, alone.

Is that really so much to ask?