This is going to sound weird, but we don’t have a lock on our bathroom door… Okay, like I said, weird, but we have our reasons… Our house is old, in need of updating, and the bathroom door is just one of the many (MANY) projects that nobody (I’m looking at you, husband) has gotten around to doing yet.
My children, in typical child fashion, see the lack of a door lock as an open invitation to bang the door open as far as my leg will allow, poke their noses in (not necessarily the wisest decision), and stare at me with one eye so they can ask me an “emergency” question… Yes, in my household, asking if they can put their pajamas on is considered a privacy-invading emergency that cannot wait even 30 seconds.
I have heard the “my children won’t leave me alone when I’m pooping or showering” scenario from many of my friends… I actually understand not wanting to wait a single second to tell someone what’s on your mind because it is of the utmost importance (being myself what some might consider a “non-stop talker”)… The children bothering me, I get that… Hell, I actually expect it.
What I don’t get, not even a little bit, is why my dog can’t leave me alone when I’m in there.
The first time it happened, I actually screamed out in shock and horror when the door banged open and instead of seeing the adorable peach colored nose of my child I saw the decidedly unadorable black nose of my little white pitbull. It’s not like she wants to have a conversation. What in the world does she want from me that can’t wait 30 seconds? She certainly doesn’t need to put her pajamas on and never once has she asked me for permission before chewing on something or peeing on the floor.
It started out with a few scratches, but has now turned into a full-blown assault on my bathroom peace of mind… This dog is now literally throwing herself against the door while I am trying to read my magazine… Um…. I mean… While I’m trying to put on my makeup.
What used to be my favorite part of the day, my relaxing, quiet, warm and cozy shower, has now become an exercise in paranoia (“What was that? Do I feel cold air?”) and frustration. I have tried everything to keep that dog from letting all my wonderful freshly steamed shower air out and allowing the freezing cold hallway air into my 30 minutes of peace and quiet bubble. I have shoved a towel under the door as a sort of makeshift lock (she scratches, shoulders, and digs until she works the towel free), I have screamed in a super scary way at her when she pokes her nose around the shower curtain (she runs away and then returns one minute later), I have tried posting my children as guards (they get bored within three minutes and wander off)… Nothing, absolutely nothing, will keep my dog from bursting in and disrupting my amazing soulful singing.
Why?!? What in the world does she think is going on in there?!? There’s no food and nothing important to tear apart. There’s certainly not an affectionate pat on the head waiting behind the door. Is she seriously that obsessed with seeing my horrible nude form??? And even if she was, isn’t 5000 times enough??? I don’t get it!!!
I have spent hours of my life trying to solve this problem… I have even tried sneaking my way into the shower and hoping she doesn’t realize I’m in the bathroom. As I am showering, I can practically hear the Jaws theme music as I wait for the inevitable Little White Dog of Doom to burst in.
In fact, I feel like I have actually come up with a solution to this extremely pressing, urgent, and life-threatening problem of mine. However, it is the most difficult solution of all…
My husband must fix the door. Because, let’s face it, I’m not going to even attempt to figure out how to fix it myself.
The path to this solution is a long, treacherous, winding mine-field of nagging and helpful suggestions. Though may take years, though my voice may become hoarse and my will may weaken, it must be done…
Wish me luck! Also, wish Sugar luck because I’m not quite sure what I’ll do the next time I see those vacant brown eyes staring at me when I am right in the middle of a rousing shower chorus of “Firework.”