This morning I took Rory to a doctor appointment with me.  I had packed up his little roller suitcase full of books, games and crayons plus some snacks so he had plenty to keep him busy the entire time.  Rory was drinking a lot of water while I was talking to my doctor and I kept telling myself to make sure to stop at the bathroom before we left.

After the appointment, we were heading back through the waiting room when I was told by an elderly women who was waiting, presumably with her husband, to “STOP!”  Rory was walking behind me so I immediately turned around to see if there was something wrong.  Everything appeared to be fine with him.  I looked back at the woman, smiled and was about ready to keep going when she got a little frantic and said “Oh, wait, please stop!  Please stop!”  She was desperately trying to get up out of her chair as I heard her saying, “He’s so cute!  Look at him!  He’s so cute!”  This all happened in a matter of about 3 seconds.

She got to her feet and was inching her way toward Rory and I with this manic look on her face.  Rory, being the (sometimes) sweet boy that he is, stood at attention and waved.  The elderly woman’s husband was chuckling and waving back at Rory and I didn’t know if I should grab him and dart out the door or if I should allow this geriatric woman to approach my son.  She kept putting her arms out like she wanted to touch him, but then would pull them back.  Meanwhile, the husband was making some kind of goo-goo noises at Rory, which apparently annoyed his wife and she whipped around and yelled at him to “Just be quiet!”  And that was my cue to exit stage right.

I told Rory to say “Good-bye” and we ran out the door.  Before the door closed, I heard the husband yell “STAY HERE CHERYL!  YOU CAN’T GO WITH THEM!”  I felt bad for Cheryl, but I couldn’t subject Rory to her anymore.  Right when I heard the door click, I realized we had forgotten to get the key to the bathroom.  The bathroom is out in the hall and you need a key.  I tried the door to the women’s bathroom and it was locked, but I could tell that the door to the men’s wasn’t latched.  I had a decision to make.

1. Go back in the office and face Cheryl.
2. Risk Rory peeing his pants in his carseat (again).
3. Let Rory pee in the bushes out in the parking lot.
4. Have my 2 year old go into a public restroom by himself.
5. Go in the men’s bathroom with my son and hope for the best.

Yep, I was willing to go into a public men’s room in order to avoid all of the other options above.  I first opened the door and could tell that the bathroom wasn’t big – only 2 urinals and 1 stall.  Note that I didn’t knock first.  These were desperate times – my mind wasn’t processing things rationally.  I told Rory to go in and pee and I stood holding the door to the bathroom open.  He went straight into the stall because I don’t think he has ever used a urinal before.  I could see his feet and he kept getting up on his tippy toes.  I yelled in “Rory, can you reach?”  Rory responded, “No me reach, Mama!”  SHIT!!!

I looked up and down the hall, used Rory’s little suitcase to prop open the door so if a man did happen to walk in, he would at least take a second to wonder why the door was propped open with a child’s suitcase before droppin’ trou, and sprinted to the stall.  I lifted Rory up and instructed him like a drill sergeant to “PEE, BOY!”  I yanked his pants up and told Rory that we weren’t washing our hands today and threw him out in the hall.  We made it undetected, but I felt like we had to get out of the building post haste in case they had security monitoring that bathroom to ensure women and their newly, potty trained sons weren’t using it.

I’m tellin’ ya, nothing get’s the blood pumpin’ like a trip to the men’s room!