By Gretchen Leigh

All parents know privacy is an issue when we have little children. There are countless videos on YouTube of moms hiding out in bathrooms, pantries, and their bedrooms, toddlers pounding on their door asking mommy why she’s in a time out. It’s OK. We’ve all been there. However, I want to tell a secret to mothers of young children, just so you’re not blindsided when your kids get older – you will never have privacy again.

I think moms are a little more attuned to the problem, especially if you’ve given birth. Once that baby pops out, or okay, while the baby is on its way and you’re surrounded by nurses and doctors, you begin to understand that maybe everything you considered sacred is gone.

Moms more than dads intuitively sense the doom of their destiny, because husbands may be part of the problem. My husband and I were watching a sitcom on Netflix where the mom needed five minutes to send an email. Just as she sat down to compose it, each child came in with a specific problem they wanted her to resolve immediately. Then good old dad waltzed in demanding attention, too. A saleswoman rang their doorbell and the mother recruited her to pitch to the children just to keep them busy.

Though I’ve never used a stranger to keep my kids occupied, when they were little, I could at least yell for my husband to handle a situation when I was indisposed. Now I’m on my own to appeal to my children’s and husband’s “adult” sensibilities to give me a little privacy.

I spend most of my weekdays home alone, so generally it’s not a big deal to me. But there is certain time each day in a particular room that I’d like not be bothered at all, if you know what I mean. That moment, however, is one of the magnetic triggers of the need to get mom’s attention. Once one of my kids answered the phone, flung open the bathroom door, and tried to hand it to me. I flapped my hands like crazy to avoid taking the phone from her, and not letting the caller hear the distinct echo of that room. My last resort was to pantomime slitting my throat, at which point she clued in that it was an inappropriate moment and she should handle the call like an adult. She was 21, after all.

I know some of you are horrified as you’re reading this, but there are many of you who are rolling on the floor right now, perhaps even the bathroom floor. It happens to all women around the world. I’d even bet that women out in the bush in Africa can’t dig a hole and use it in peace.

The phenomenon is literally the call of nature. We take a seat, our families hear a bell ring, “Where’s mom? I need something.” I find myself avoiding its use when my family is home, yet I try to quell the urge to run off the grocery store restroom just to be uninterrupted.

I got out of the shower the other day and was about to dry my hair, when my husband burst into the bathroom. “Do you need something?” I asked.

“I was going to use the toilet.”

There was another bathroom in the house and though I was blocking access to his favorite throne, I would not be rushed through my primping. As he left, my oldest stepped in to use the shower. At least she wasn’t demanding I move over.

So moms, I’m sorry to divulge this look into your future if your children are still young and you had hope. But you should know nothing in your life will ever be sacred again.