One of the main reasons we decided to rent this house was not because of the second story (although it was definitely in the ‘pro’ column, just to be able to speak above a whisper once the kids were asleep), but because of the 2nd bathroom.
One toilet for four people was just not cutting it anymore. When you gotta go, you gotta go- and when someone else is going- you’re fucked. There’s no way in hell i’m ever going to be forced to shit in a sink!
The downstairs bathroom is a tiny little thing, but it gets the job done as far as having somewhere extra to defecate and flush away.
As my brother has brought to my attention time and time again- there is one downside: no fart fan. Of course he would notice this, because every time he’s here he decides he just has to blow it up after eating greasy gut bombs from 7-11. And every time he mentions it, I kindly remind him that if he needs a “fart fan” to make it so he isn’t gagging at the smell of his own shit, he has far more problems than that.
Every time, he renders that bathroom completely useless for hours on end; the smell so bad that even if you breathe through your mouth you aren’t safe from it creeping down your throat. Even after lighting two candles and dousing the place with febreze.
I guess that’s another reason to add to the list of why it’s good to have 2 bathrooms.
To go along with my 1950’s kitchen theme that i’m so obsessed with, I decided it best to put a pinup girl as the sole decoration in that teeny little bathroom. Why not have something pretty to look at while something not so pretty is coming out? Some people may think it inappropriate to have a woman in a slight state of undress in a place where small children can see it- but if it can get my kid to take a waz after nap time without throwing an absolute fit- the slut stays. She even gets an honorary place setting at the Thanksgiving dinner table.
Sadly, today she did not have the same effect on Parker as she usually does. The fit was imminent, and so nasty that Parker sat on the pot and screamed until he was blue in the face, absolutely refusing to empty his bladder after over 2 hours of sleeping. Toddler bladders are small and need to be emptied frequently- I knew this, but that damn bleeding hole in my heart (and to prevent myself from 3 days in a row of migraines) told me to let him get down and go on his own time, although I reminded him sternly that if he pissed his pants he would be in a WORLD of trouble.
So off he went to suck on that stupid thumb, while sitting on the couch and holding his boppy tag with all his might (what’s new?)
He did me one better. Pissed on the couch. That DAMN couch! It’s not enough that he dumps milk on it daily, making it smell like a dead dog’s ass, but now he has to go and add piss to the mix. RUINED!
And of course, after I cursed him and rushed him to the bathroom yet again- at an arm’s length- he yet again did nothing. Grrrrr.
Does nothing, yet absolutely refuses to leave the bathroom. Just sat there on the floor, completely naked from the waist down, crying his head off. Pinup obsession?
Fuck it. Stay there then!
After a minute or so, I see him hobble out of the bathroom, knees locked together. The telltale sign of turtle-heading poop.
“Oh you better not have shit on my floor!” and as i’m running (yes, again) toward him, I pass by something on the floor that looks disgustingly similar to a pile of loose toddler bowel excretion.
I plopped him down on that pot as fast as I could and left him there to go and assess the damage… but what looked like diarrhea on the floor ended up being a plastic chicken leg. However, he did take a gigantic crap in the toilet… just glad it didn’t end up on the floor again. That plus the mutant spiders i’ve been killing (while screaming like a little girl) all day would have been too much for me to handle.
Downstairs bathroom, I think I love you, and I apologize for the horrors you have had to endure at the hands (or asses?) of the men in this house.
I'm either "I HAVE 3 FRIES LEFT DON'T TOUCH MY PLATE!" or "Please take this so I can't eat any more of it!" There is no in-between.
Dear people writing articles on ways to get siblings to get along, I'll save you the time. The answer is "Don't let them play together"
Please stop Complimenting my kids’ “Good” Behavior goo.gl/fb/rwfojS
Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.