Note to Self: Never underestimate the convenience of your toddler's portable potty...

It's the moment of truth... a moment to see what you're really made of. I think very highly of myself when it comes to tolerating pain... two back surgeries and un-medicated births give me some point of reference. I also have a tremendous talent for enduring awkward or embarrassing situations with poise and grace, if I do say so myself.

Tap dancing at the local zoo, a strip mall parking lot or nursing home decked out in fishnets and purple feathers... no big deal.
 My favorite child melting down and stealing the only available swing at the park as angry mothers wait their turn... just smile, apologize on the behalf of your unruly toddler, and end up in a great conversation with 'angry moms'. Seriously, things don't rattle me anymore.

Well... not completely true. I must say, that when pain and embarrassment collide... it is a whole different story.

... and so I find myself at City View park, on a beautiful 70 degree evening, with my fabulous husband and adorable children. We had just finished a quick dinner and were meeting friends to let the kids play for a few minutes. Who could ask for a better evening? It was perfect. Perfect... until our friends pulled up and I got out of the car.

DISCLAIMER: -If you have been offended in the past by my blunt style of writing... this is not the story for you.
                           -If you are one of 'Miss Jessica's' previous students and want to maintain a demure and lady like imagine of her... this is not the story for you.
                           - If you are repulsed or offended by 'bathroom humor'... this is not the story for you.
                           - On the other hand... If you've found yourself in a T.J. Maxx restroom, blaming the 'awful smell' on the child in the stall next to you... then this is your story.
*I must admit that I am typically not a 'bathroom humor' sort of girl... but in light of the recent flu bug going around... I am convinced that the majority of you out there will be able to relate. And if you can't... then, you're either too young (and you're time will come)... or you're lying.

... and so, I get out of the car, barely greet our friends... and it hits me. My stomach immediately revolts against the perfection of the day... and demands that I rush to the nearest bathroom, which happens to be ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE PARK. As I try to pretend 'it's no big deal'... I tell Davy I'll be right back and send him off with both kids.

I set off on the long journey across the soggy field with nothing but my nausea and stomach cramps. Now, once again, I can handle nausea and pain... but when it's mixed with a sense of 'Dear God... please help no one else to be in the bathroom'... well, it takes things to a whole new level.
At one point a heard a dog barking in the distance... and literally thought... 'I would totally rather be attacked by that dog right now'. But there was no such luck... so I trudged on.

At last, I make it to the bathroom... which was guarded by a LOCKED gate. As I started praying in tongues and searching for the nearest tree, an angel in the form of a park ranger, flew by in his trusty golf cart. I flagged him down and shamelessly begged him to open the door for me. At first, he declined my request. But after I added that I was pregnant and felt like I was gonna die... he rolled his eyes and let me in.

I rushed into the empty bathroom with a sense of relief and victory... after all, a public bathroom is a much better option than a public tree. At one point I wasn't sure whether to sit on the toilet or put my head over it... but eventually, nature decided... and as I sat there, all I could think of was this man sitting outside waiting to lock up... and how there was no way he was getting me out of that bathroom.

After quite a while, I decided it was time venture back out to the park... which was risky, but had to be done. I made the walk of shame across the empty, soggy field, and back to our friends and kids. I made a few jokes about feeling like I was gonna die and my dear friend was understanding. We let the kids play for a few more minutes as the sun set and the 'park ranger' started asking people to leave. And thank God he did... because round two was approaching quicker than I had planned.

As we're gathering the kids and making our way to the car, beads of panic and sweat are forming on my upper lip. The setting of the ever-playing movie of my life suddenly turned into a dark and stormy night. The cellos were in a minor key and I found myself in slow motion... running for cover on the battlefield of life... "Take cover!" I was telling myself... "Any tree or ditch will do!"

In reality... I'm frantically buckling the kids in their car seats and talking to David through my teeth... "We need to go NOW!"

We wave goodbye to our friends and as we're pulling out of the park, I let David know... "We're not gonna make it home. You're gonna have to stop somewhere."
 "Are you serious?" he replies... chuckling.

We pull out onto Kempsville Rd. and get stopped at the first light. That's it! "Baby... I'm dying! What do I do?!" I yell at him through bipolar bouts of tears and laughter.

And all of a sudden... my husband... the genius that he is... suggests,  "Well... there's always Doodle's portable potty."

And with those words... the heavens parted and the symphony struck a high note. I immediately belly flop over my seat and crowd surf past both of my confused kids... profusely apologizing to my hysterical husband the whole time.

I am both ashamed and proud to say that the hysteria, panic and tears all subsided in the privacy of my own trunk... speeding down Kempsville Rd... and just to make things a bit more dramatic... there was a host of fire engines and police cars that escorted us the whole way home. I just kept thinking... "The only way this could get worse, is if I were to die in a car crash in this condition."
I yelled over the open windows and sirens... and specifically instructed David that, in the event of my untimely death... before making it home, he must come up with a different story... and lie at my funeral. He obliged my request as he unashamedly snapped pictures and hung his head out the window.

I really believe we hit a new level in our marriage that day. I mean... that's what the best memories are made of, right? Laughter... tears... togetherness. Well... that's at least what I keep trying to tell myself.

I'm also contemplating taking a different route... the 'just blame it on the baby' routine. Which, I believe is totally valid, based on the fact that I had the stomach flu over 2 weeks ago... and can still only eat bread, ice chips and yogurt. Yep... that sounds good. It's the baby's fault.

Note to Self: Never underestimate the convenience of your toddler's portable potty... it might just save your life one day.