As we continue to settle into our new normal, my biggest adjustment is my complete lack of privacy.

Before we moved, Andrew almost never left for work before I did.  We could tag-team the morning routine, and I never had to consider what to do with the world’s busiest toddler while I showered.  So two days in, I was confronted with a very serious dilemma for the first time.  With no TV, no place to restrain the aforementioned busy toddler, and double the square footage filled with boxes and hazards – what would I do with Mackenzie? I had no choice: I had to take her in the shower with me.

This awkward situation was made all the better when M ripped off her own diaper, clambered in before I could, and began to dance. “Shake yo bum!” She demanded as she initiated dance party mode.  In six weeks, these morning dance parties have desensitized me to nudity and shame. And while I’m sort of over the lack of week-day privacy. I live for two things. First –  the day when shaving your legs as a toddler “helps” is acknowledged as an Olympic gymnastics event.  Second – Saturday morning, when I can lock the door, crank up the music, and stand under scalding water, alone.

Recently, this lack of privacy has expanded.  And so help me, the monkey backpack leash is about to make one heck of a comeback. When we’re out, M just will not keep public bathroom doors closed.  This is only mildly embarrassing when we’re in the ladies room.  But you better believe my bathroom buddy holds hands with me the entire time if a bathroom door opens directly into a busy Starbucks.

But my child has nothing if not comic timing and a sense of irony. She spends the entire time we’re in a public bathroom attempting to run away. However, any given evening, when I finally close (and lock) the bathroom door, pretend to pee, and check Facebook in peace, this is the reality: