Potty Problems

There were some parenting decisions and obstacles I had mentally prepared for before the arrival of my first born.  There were other future dilemas that I was at least aware of.  The one thing that I forgot to think about and make some sort of plan for, was bathroom time.

I grew up in a house where bathroom doors were always shut tight.  I like it that way.  I have known my husband for eleven years and the thought of using the facilities with the door open and him being home, makes my skin hurt.  I have a very Eliott Reid policy on potty time. 

Then I became a mom.  In my first few weeks as new mom, I brought my son to the bathroom with me every time I had to go.  Terrified to leave him out of my sight for a minute, he would lay patiently on the bathroom rug while I took care of things.

Shortly there after, there was this beautiful and fleeting time where I could leave him in the living room and go to bathroom...alone.  I left the door open so I could hear him, but again, it was just me and the porcelain throne.  

Several months later, the babe was mobile.  He kept close tabs on his mama and always followed her into the loo.  I could usually give him a hair brush or his tub toys and he would be contented.

But now friends, things are different.  As the aforementioned stages were occurring, I thought nothing of them.  I thought nothing of this mom and baby bathroom time extravaganza, until a week ago.

I went on a camping trip with some moms and babies.  It was a delightful time where everyone was always snacking and napping.  I went to use the bathroom and did not want to leave my child screaming on the other side of the door for the other moms to deal with, so I let him in.  He was wandering around opening cupboard doors and investigating, while I was on the john.  Then with the pride in his eyes, that only comes when a child thinks they have done something novel and kind, he tore off some toilet paper and handed it to me. He just stood there, beaming, holding out his little scrap of an offering.  Smiling, I reached to accept his gift and he giggled joyously when I took the paper from him.

I quickly got off the pot and nudged him out the door, while I washed my hands and started thinking things through.  My first thought?  "Oh no.  He is going to have some fleeting memories of being in the bathroom with his mother and being an active part of her human processes."  Everything after that is a thought about scaring him for life. I vowed, to try to use it alone from here on out.

Skip ahead two days, and you will find us in the bathroom of the Cost Cutters.  My husband has a razor up to his head and cannot watch little man so that I can pee.  (I should mention that my ability to "hold it" has suffered greatly since childbirth.)So, there I am, holding my son on my lap, while I am using the komode.  I would have put him down, but he doesn't understand "no" very well, and the bathroom was too big for me try to keep tabs on him while I was sitting.  Plus he would touch everything. Great.  I made it two days without potentially ruining his life.

I really don't know what to do.  I don't know what is okay and what is the stuff of repressed memories and mommy-issues.  Any ideas?