We’ve lived in this house for a few months shy of a year now. When we moved out of the last house, it was a relief for MANY reasons- but mostly because it meant we were FINALLY getting out of a house with only ONE bathroom and into a house with two.
To some, that’s no big deal, but to us it was like winning the damn lottery! Or at least to me it was.
You see, I am a pooper. Most of you may know this, but some may not- so i’ll say it again. I AM A POOPER. Ok? I poop a lot. And when I have to poop I do not like to wait. Or more like my stomach screams at me to EVACUATE CONTENTS NOW OR YOU WILL EXPLODE. In other words, my stomach is a bitch and one quickly learns to obey it or there will be severe consequences.
When you live in a household of 4 people with only one bathroom, and you have a stomach that is a hateful bitch- you run into problems. A lot of problems. Like having to go SO bad that you physically squeeze your cheeks together as to keep the contents of your colon IN your colon, but you can’t go- because someone else is going. You have moments where you honestly consider crapping in the kitchen sink because you have calculated how much longer you can hold in whatever business it is that you must do (this includes pee), and the calculation came back as negative three, but there is a kid on the pot, and we all know kids are like old men in that they have the bladder of a squirrel and take FOREVER to pinch a loaf (which under any other circumstance you prefer, because the opposite would be having the runs and NO ONE wants their kids to have the runs).
One bathroom to 4 people is unacceptable unless you have a stomach of steel or have been practicing your rectal kegels to the point of being able to hold back a Tsunami sized poo-wave.
I’d prefer a bathroom per person, but let’s get real here- i’m not a friggin’ millionaire and bathrooms on a house seem to cost more than extra bedrooms. Not.Gonna.Happen.
If two is all I can get- I WILL TAKE IT. No more competing for bathrooms! Someone’s occupying downstairs? I’ll go upstairs. It’s more private and spacious anyway. Someone’s busy in the upstairs, taking a shower, washing their ass, primping? I’ll go downstairs. No biggie.
In the almost year that we have been living here, never did the situation arise where I needed to use a bathroom RIGHTNOW and didn’t have one available to do so. Never had to come home and race to the bathroom first because I had become acutely aware on some random car ride that I was not the only one who needed to go and therefore had better stake my claim on it, or I would end up dying at the hand of someone else’s fart fumes.
I knew the days of free-poopin’ couldn’t last forever. I knew eventually a time would have to come where both toilets would be in use when my stomach would decide THE TIME IS NOW. AND BY NOW, I MEAN RIGHTNOW, and that time for me came this weekend. Joy.
Right after lunch, the beginning of nap time, and that oh-so familiar pang hit me. There’s just something about drinking on a Friday night that PISSES my stomach OFF right after lunch on Saturday. It never fails. So it’s not that it was unusual to have to go, but the urgency I sensed to do so immediately was enough to have my flying off the couch and making a beeline for the nearest bathroom. Door closed. CRAP, I forgot. Thomas has been in there for the past 10 or so minutes, I would assume blowing it the fuck UP.
Ok, no problem- I shot up the stairs- and I should have fucking known what i’d find there. Holden, naked from the waist down, perched on the toilet.
For some reason, Holden thinks that “nap time” is code for “don’t sleep and go poop instead” time. Every day. It never fails. I ask him all the time “why don’t you just poop BEFORE nap time?” – to him, this question is completely illogical.
I was stuck. Had to poop but nowhere to go. So I waited. And by waited I mean paced back and forth, cursing under my breath, hoping that the constant motion would make it so I would not crap myself.
“But Mommy, i’m just relaxing and waiting for the doodoo to come out. Why are you walking like that?”
Oh you mean the poo-waddle? The butt clenching shuffle? The stiff-legged slide? BECAUSE I HAVE TO GO. WHAT, YOU THOUGHT I WAS LYING? I WILL POOP ON YOU!
The child hadn’t even dropped a single turd yet. He wasn’t even trying. I knew this was not going to end well.
For a good 4 minutes, we actually argued about how long it was going to take him to poo and how I thought MINE would be done before he even had a turtle-head. He disagreed. His bowel movement, or lack thereof, to him was FAR more important.
In the middle of this conversation, Thomas emerges from the downstairs bathroom and peers up the stairs,
“What are you doing?”
I explain the urgency, and he reminds me that the downstairs bathroom is now open. I do not even pause to consider it. There is no way I am going to suffocate in the remnants of his 20 minute long toilet battle, and our bathrooms don’t have fart fans.
He looked at me like I was batshit crazy. He is used to his own brand. I am not. I don’t want to be!
Somehow, Holden must have sensed the extreme panic in my voice because I convinced him to get the hell off of the toilet and to let me go before him. Even though he’d already been on the pot for a good 10 minutes, he got up and said “Ok mommy, you can go first”
WHO’S MY NEW FAVORITE??
Of course, then he stood in the corner, butt-ass-naked from the waist down, staring at me with this weird dopey little smile on his face… but toilet-beggars can’t be choosers I guess.
I guess what we learned from this story is that
A) I need more bathrooms
B) When the poo can’t wait, the poo can’t wait. Don’t argue with the poo or with someone else’s urgent poo.
C) I need more bathrooms
D) Holden is the slowest pooper on the face of the earth.
E) Fart fans are a MUST in all bathrooms.
F) is for I NEED MORE FREAKIN’ BATHROOMS
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