The Long Line

Men are lucky.

If they have to use the bathroom, they rarely ever have to worry about lines.

Women, on the other hand, aren't so lucky.

Yesterday we flew back to Ohio. When we got to Atlanta I really had to use the bathroom, as did Tom. So we found a set of bathrooms and mine had a line.

Tom's did not.

He was able to walk right in and walk right back out.

I was still in line.

At this point I started to do my pee dance: I leaped around on my toes and took deep breaths. Natalie, she's a feisty one, she decided that it would be great fun to take jabs towards my bladder at that very moment.

"Poor Amber," Tom said, looking sympathetic.

I was thisclose to using his bathroom. I mean I knew I might startle some of the men behind the urinals but I was going to ask Tom to lead me into a stall with my eyes squished shut so I wouldn't see anything that I'd regret later. Oh and I also planned on shouting, "Don't mind the pregnant lady! I repeat: don't mind the pregnant lady. And my eyes are closed, don't worry!"

I really think pregnant women should have priority in line. And children with bladders the size of a pea. Because a few spaces behind me there was a little girl and her mother and the little girl kept shrieking, "Mommy I need to go NOW!" while gripping her crotch and looking painfully uncomfortable.

Of course no one offered us cutsies.

I would have, but then again, I'm one of the few nice people out there.

If I hadn't been pregnant, I'd have let that little girl in front of me. Poor thing.

It seemed to take forever. My pee dance started to get more frantic--and then I finally made it into a stall.

Phew.

Relief.

A few minutes later Tom and I found our gate and then Tommy announced, "I need to go pee!" He gave us a wide smile even though when I had been line I had asked him repeatedly if he had to go.

"No Mommy," he kept saying, growing a little impatient with my continuing to ask about his peeing needs.

My bathroom line was still stretched.

Tom's wasn't.

"You'll have to go with Daddy then," I said and I saw Tom's face fall. He took him though. He let out a breath and took Tommy by the hand. They disappeared into the crowds and returned a few minutes later.

"How'd it go?" I asked cheerfully.

Tom made a face. "He needs to learn to keep his..um..THING pointed down." He looked dreadfully uncomfortable as he said it and squirmed in his seat.

The plane that took us to Cleveland was packed. Lots of young children too. On all the other flights we had taken Tommy had been the only child. I kept making comments to Tom like, "Because we're the only idiots brave enough to travel with a four-year-old.."

But this time there were children galore.

Naughty children too.

It made me feel better about Tommy. Two rows up there was a mother with two young boys who kept popping up from their seats and leering at the passengers behind them. They threw toys and food at them, shouting in their faces..the mother, I felt horrible for her, she kept saying, "Sit sit!" and the boys wouldn't listen.

Yikes.

Tommy may be on the noisy side but he wouldn't throw food and his toys at other people.

I am so sick of airplanes at this point.

Today Missy (Tom's sister) and her two children arrive. Tommy is excited, he keeps going, "Where is Brittney?" Because Brittney is also four and we told him he could play with her. Alyssa is older, I believe nine or ten. I asked Tom and he shrugs and goes, "How would I know, I don't keep up with that.."

They're also bringing their dog. Their cocker spaniel Shadow.

Tommy has all of a sudden become afraid of dogs.

This should be interesting.