Over the holiday break our family took a trip to San Diego to visit my mother-in-law for Christmas. It was perfect timing. We got out of a below-zero cold spell in Minneapolis and landed in sunny, 70 degree temps in San Diego. After the new year, we decided to drive up to LA and revisit our old neighborhood.
Jason and I lived in Santa Monica for about 5 years after college. This is where we really started our life together. We rented our first home as a couple, began our careers, enjoyed the young 20s lifestyle, got engaged and married along the cliffs of Santa Monica. It was so wonderful to be back reminiscing about the pre-kids days.
One of our first stops was the LACMA (Los Angeles County Museum of Art). We could spend hours walking around the museum, sipping fancy, over-priced coffee in the atrium, and convincing each other we needed that new Eames sculpture from the gift shop. Knowing that the boys would not be cool with this plan, we added a stop to the LaBrea Tar Pits next door.
Before leaving the museum Teddy needed to use the bathroom. I brought him into the girls restrooms with me and decided I'd better change my tampon in case we weren't near another restroom for a while. I thought I could distract him enough so he wouldn't notice what I was doing, Hey Teddy, how many screws did it take them to put this door up? What's that on the ceiling? Do you want to play on my phone? None of those works. Teddy heard the tampon wrapper like an owl hears a mouse and assumed I was passing out treats while on the toilet. Because obviously. The bathroom is always a good place to sneak a treat, right? Fearing he'd miss the opportunity for sugar, he watched me like a hawk. Knowing there was a huge line for the three stalled bathroom, I knew I needed to hurry. I decided to just do my business as fast as possible. Teddy caught a glimpse of the pink plastic as I moved and shouted (Seriously. SHOUTED), "Are you putting medicine in your tushy mommy?"
Now just imagine an art gallery bathroom. Modern and clean, lined with tile, metal, and cement from floor to ceiling. Forget the Swiss Alps, film your Ricola commercial in here, that shit will reverberate. The thought of how many people had heard what Teddy just said made my face cherry red with embarrassment. My mind was racing with questions. What did they think was happening here? What image was running through their mind about me possibly putting medicine in my ass? In public. With my kid in the stall. How do I answer his question? It felt like the entire museum had stopped in their tracks in shock. Their eyes wide open, mouth agape, waiting to hear my response.
I said nothing.
