O Restroom, Where Art Thou?

I should have gone at his school.  But when faced with disappointing your child and peeing, it's obvious who wins.  Only a self-centered freak of a mother would pick the latter.

We have this little ritual where one of the teachers holds Riley up to the window so that he and I can wave and blow kisses at each other as I walk to the car.  As soon as I sat down and turned on the ignition, I realized I might very easily lose this round of Survivor: The Bladder Games.

I drove to work, and luckily found a legal parking spot quickly.  No u-turns, no cops and no ratting out other zealous parkers (http://momsnewstage.blogspot.com/2011/09/no-one-likes-tattletale.html).  My car situated nicely, I could run to work and end this nice and clean.

But I had nothing to eat.  No lunch.  No snack.  Nothing.  And I had a meeting with my T.A. right after my first class.  Plus answering e-mails and blog work meant no time to get lunch on my break.

Another choice to make.  Should I forget about eating and drinking, and wind up with a fierce migraine and about to puke on the second meeting of my afternoon class, or should I go pee?

Of course not.  I had to get food.  Something yummy.  Something nutritious.  Not the energy bar and juice business I used to pull in my youth, when if I got a headache, I simply went to bed, no worries, no one neglected.

Ding!  The Fitness Formula Club cafe.  Healthy food, probably a restroom AND on the way to work - a trifecta, or so I thought. I ordered chicken and brown rice with kale on the side - I know, saintly, as far as food is concerned - and asked the dude behind the counter if there was a bathroom I could use.

"Our restrooms are in the club section and are only for members," he answered, with insincere customer-service style empathy.  "The nearest public bathroom is..."

I cut him off.  "I know where it is.  I work around the corner. I just thought...," humiliated, my voice trailed off feebly. This is bullshit! I raged inwardly. Don't cafes legally have to have restrooms for patrons?  I squeezed my pelvic floor as if I were trying to make diamonds, and waited until my food was prepared.

Having ordered delicious spa fare from here before, I remembered this guy. I'd seen snails with more hustle.  The chronically in a hurry part of me admired his Zen, and the other part of me wanted to jump over the counter and beat him mercilessly with a pair of tongs.  Zen is something you crave in a massage therapist, or a yoga teacher.  Zen is something you long for when your child has gotten out of his bed for the fifth time at 10 p.m., and you wish to God someone would design toddler sheets along the lines of those rodent glue traps. It is not something you desire in the least when you're a kick ball-change from looking like someone just threw a bucket of water at your crotch.

I turned to the attendant behind the membership desk.  Maybe he'd be more sympathetic.  He gave me the same spiel, and suggested that I try the public restroom at Jewel. "I'm not using that restroom," I snapped.  As if.  That bathroom is as good as an outhouse.  I wanted to say, If you had borne children, and if you had a single shred of human decency, you would know better than to deny me toilet access, you bastard you!  Seriously, I know men also get into urgent peeing situations, but it cannot be the same as when those muscles, despite fervent kegeling, are stretched out like a fat man's undershirt.  They really need an app to make men able to feel a woman's desperation to pee. They need an app to make men feel a lot of things.  Maybe I should have put that in my post about fantasy apps (http://momsnewstage.blogspot.com/2011/07/top-ten-tuesday-top-ten-apps-moms-wish.html). But, let's not get started...

Finally my food was ready.  I grabbed it and racewalked the block and a half to work. Like I'd been goosed, I hurried past the security guard with whom I usually exchanged pleasantries.  I did the hootchie-coochie pee-pee mambo in the elevator.  I could practically feel pee sloshing up toward my esophagus as I ran to the restroom.  And finally, deliverance...