Being a mother means never being alone...ever

Sometimes I remember what it is like to be alone. I mean really alone. The days where I could sleep in. Read a novel. Have an orange without having to share it with the entire household. Where I could have a glass of water that was mine alone. Where I could listen to any song on the radio without wondering whether its contents could possibly skew my son's view of the world.

But somewhere after you say "I do" the privacy starts to diminish. Pretty soon your spouse is walking in on you while you are using "the facilities" to ask you what sounds good for dinner. Then you get a dog and the privacy starts to further reduce itself. I distinctly remember the first time I felt like I was being "watched" in the shower. As I rinsed the shampoo out of my eyes, I looked down and saw my maltepoo Cooper watching me, chewing on my discarded underwear from the other side of the glass door. Before long both dogs had to be pried off of our bed at night so that we could get a decent night of sleep.

Perhaps it is irony. I remember standing outside of my parent's bedroom as a child, yelling, asking why their bedroom door was locked. Walking into the bathroom as my mom showered to inquire where she had put my blue sweater.

With motherhood comes new sets of challenges. I would not change my life for anything. But sometimes I have a difficult time remembering what it was like to be in the sanctity of my own bathroom without a little man banging on the door, screaming "MaMa! MaMa! MaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaMa!" as his little hand pokes it's way underneath the door.