Happy hour in the Barker household has nothing to do with discounted alcoholic drinks.  Happy hour is when my husband returns from work and I am free to use the bathroom at my leisure with total privacy.

There’s no going when I am the only adult in the house and the teens are still in school, especially when I am alone with Infant Mermaid Girl, five-year old Take-Charge CEO Man and Sergeant Stripes.

This is how it goes.  I try to sneak off for a much needed potty break.  As soon as the door locks, Infant Mermaid Girl begins to coo and gurgle and flop around indicating she needs feeding or a change.  I can hear this over the baby intercom, but it is too late to stop now.  Hopefully, Infant Mermaid Girl doesn’t throw up and start coughing.

“Hack, hack, urp.”

Great.

The phone rings.

“Don’t answer that!” I holler, but CEO Man answers the phone and starts informing the dentist’s office? a pollster?  the vet? an editor? about every personal detail of my life.

“Momma is in the bathroom going poop.  Dad’s at work and my brother (Sergeant Stripes) is yelling in his room so it’s just me and my sister (Infant Mermaid Girl).  She just barfed—Mom, are you done pooping yet?”

Now the doorbell rings and CEO Man tries to manage that, too, but Sergeant Stripes marches right after him.  “No, I’M answering the door!”

“Both of you close that door!” I yell, but no one hears because the two new self-promoted men of the house are arguing at the door in front of the UPS man?  the gardener?  ambassadors of God?

“You let the cat out!” Sergeant Stripes bellows.

“No, YOU did!”

“Momma, there’s boxes!”

“Momma’s going poop.  Bring the boxes inside.”

Boxes??  There is no hurrying mother nature.

Now Infant Mermaid Girl starts to cry.  She’s cold and frightened by her reflux.  The boys race to the bathroom door and start pounding on it, both trying to outdo the other and they’re starting to get physical.

“Becca threw up!”

“Is she okay?”

“Momma, the boxes are here.  You have to sign a paper!”

“Is she BREATHING?”

“He just opened the door and let the people in and so the cat ran out and I am NOT going to go after it.  I’m sick and tired of him leaving the door open!”

“What people??”

“I didn’t let the cat out!  YOU did!  You stupid idiot!”

“I’m not an idiot, YOU’RE an idiot!”

“QUIET ALREADY – BOTH OF YOU!”  What drugs did I take thinking I could go to the bathroom?

CEO Man hands me the phone.  “Uh, yes?”

It’s my gynecologist.  How absolutely wonderful.