When Lucas is home, I lock the bathroom door when I take a shower.
Otherwise, the kids run in, opening the door, letting in the cold air... letting the peaceful steam that has collected fly out the door.
And I like hot showers. And bathrooms so steamy you need to run cold water in the sink to catch a breath now and then. It helps me focus on my breathing, it slows me down. I can see the spots on the mirror where I once drew "I {heart} L" and where he once wrote "I {heart} C" with clean fingers on a steamy mirror.
So today, with Lucas at home thanks to the holiday, I locked the bathroom door.
I heard them, moments after I stepped into the make~your~skin~red hot shower. But I zoned out, lathered up, washed hair, rinsed, stood, breathed. And then I turned the water off. And I heard. "Mommy, the door won't open!" and then "mommy, the door is stuck!" and finally "mommy, you need help getting out!! Why won't the door open???"
The last straw? The hand that fit under the door. Fingers urgently reaching, waggling, trying help me escape.
I giggled, told him I'd open the door if he backed up, threw a towel on and got myself ready for the cold air to suck the breath out of me. The door opened to a little boy cheering. Jumping up and down, pushing past me to get into the bathroom to sit with me as I dried my hair.
After all, why would I want to be locked away from a smiling chatty little boy, and a little girl who won't let a waterfall of snot slow down her spunk? It's hard for me to believe that one day they'll both be the ones locking the bathroom door, on the other side, looking for privacy. But right now, I'll take a few minutes in a steamy shower, as privacy is something everyone needs for five minutes at a time. I'll even take the hands under the door reaching to get in, because after all... it's good for a mama to know she's missed and loved every now and then.