For those of us who struggle with a desire for popularity…

I was standing in the bathroom the other day – with the door shut. My family was somewhere in the house on the other side of the door – but their voices came through clearly to my side. I was wondering if I could have an uninterrupted moment alone and I was contemplating the downside of popularity. Being popular means you cannot go anywhere – not even to the bathroom – without being continually sought after. In my home I am popular.

I thought I was being efficient and saving time when I started answering question from the bathroom. I naively thought that if I answered a quick question from the confines of the bathroom, that life on the other side of the door would flow along smoothly without me for a few moments. That is not what happened.

Because I made a habit of answering simple questions through the bathroom door, both the frequency and the complexity of the questions intensified. I have been asked math questions, cooking questions and trivia questions. I’ve been asked about chickens, schedules and mice in the shed. I have recited phone numbers, recipes and a series of directions in order to retrieve a lost item.  I was only seeking a few moments of aloneness behind the bathroom door: to take care of business. And still the interruptions escalated.

Soon, not only questions were directed to me, but items started being pushed under the door: cell phones, pencil and paper and books. Just today, when I asked my daughter to wait until I got out of the bathroom, she responded, “Can’t I just slide it under the door?” And she did: a newly made duct tape wallet and a two-toned duct tape flip-flop. They were very nicely made and I told her so.  And, yes, we do have a gap of about 5/8” under the bathroom door; it allows for direct communication. The “talker” merely has to kneel outside the door and locate their mouth near floor level. There is no yelling or shouting needed; the conversation enters unhindered into the bathroom. Convenient. Too convenient.

I have tried to reverse this trend of continual access: especially when I’m in the bathroom. But it is difficult. Engrained habits are difficult to dislodge. It’s not that my family is purposing to invade my privacy; to them, there is no distinction between mom on the outside of the bathroom door and mom on the inside of the bathroom door.  No distinction at all.

As I stand alone in the bathroom, I think about popularity. My life seems the polar opposite of a life of popularity. And yet, tucked away in my own corner of living, I am assiduously followed and desired. So I am acquainted with the desire to take a break from the constant whirl around me, to escape the demands of being much sought after. And I stand alone in the bathroom, taking a breather, hoping that no one knocks on the door just yet; and then I have to laugh. No fancy clothes, no makeup, oh, and I haven’t brushed my hair, yet I have a circle of admirers. They are not a nameless crowd of faces; they are my family. They know me; they love me. I love them. They want me to be with them; I want to be with them.

As I enter the bathroom and the door clicks shut after me, I may have a few moments to myself, and I may not. I do feel a need for a pause, but I am glad to be a celebrity in this homey family circle of love.