I am of the opinion that children should be seen and not heard, especially in public. I probably would have done very well living during the Victorian era. Because of my, let's call it what it is, ability to be a good member of society I cringe when my children make even the slightest of noises when we're out and about. There is nothing harder than convincing a two year old she should whisper and as far as the baby goes, well there literally is nothing I can do. But I try, damnit, I try.
Because of this philosophy on child rearing I found myself one fateful morning receiving my Doctorate of Parenting. Up until this point I had rightfully earned my Bachelor's of Parenting by learning how to clean a stinky butt in 5 seconds flat or burp a baby and avoid being spit-up on. As it turns out, all of that was putting me on the fast-track for my Doctorate.
Our road trip to Minnesota became, in effect, my Doctoral project. Our first night on the road we found ourselves checking into a hotel after midnight. The girls were a little wary about this new adventure but settled down within an hour only to awaken, ready for the day, 4 hours later. Marcus, realizing he was about to have a murder-suicide situation on his hands, took both girls out of the room and down to the lobby to watch cartoons and be the first in line for breakfast (which was not a goal he had set for this trip). A few hours later, Marcus and the girls came back up and I took over Josephine duties and attempted to pack us up while Marcus and Alex left to swim in the pool.
As luck would have it Jo was cutting a tooth at this very time and as such was miserable. When Jo is miserable the only comfort she can find is in me, as in she had to be plastered to me at all times. If I even made as if to put her down she would scream making it impossible to get anything done. Had we been at home I would have let it go but we were in a hotel and it was only 7:00 in the morning. My child was being horrid and I just knew someone was plotting our demise and this time it wasn't me.
At some point during this ordeal I had to use the bathroom, bad. Since Jo wouldn't let me put her down I thought I would bring her into the bathroom with me. The school of thought there being at least she could see me. Needless to say, she sat on the bathroom floor screaming her head off which was only amplified by the excellent bathroom acoustics. Eventually, I had to just pick her up and hold her in my lap as I went to the bathroom. I'll leave it up to you to decide if it was #1 or #2 but the point is, Jo was finally a quiet and happy baby as she sat on my lap and I went to the bathroom. Unfortunately, I had to put her back down and the screaming started back up again but there are some things that are just simply impossible to do while holding a baby. Maybe if I figure out a way to finish taking care of business while holding a baby I will be elevated to the Nobel Peace Prize of Parenting.
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