I just got finished doing something dirty. Get your minds out of the gutter. I just cleaned the cat litter. It occurred to me while doing it that the cat is the only living creature in our house that gets to go the bathroom with any semblance of privacy.
Mitt Romney will tell you he understands the hardships of the middle class. Yeah, I bet he’s never had a house with one bathroom. The bathroom is where middle class gets real. Ever had four people in a 5’ x 8’ space, getting ready, going potty, taking a shower, combing hair, brushing teeth , and putting on makeup all at the same time? Doubtful Mitt, doubtful.
Our kids are 6 and 4 and we are beginning to wonder when we should start exhibiting some modesty in the bathroom. Frankly, that’s difficult when everyone has a ½ hour to get ready, and give me a break, I already get up at 5:30 a.m., my body won’t let me get up any earlier. Besides, the kids are unmovable before 6:30 a.m. anyway. I just hope we don’t put them in therapy when they wonder why we don’t look like people in the magazines and why everything is so much more droopy than what they see in the movies. That’s life without a personal chef, a trainer and Photoshop, all combined with a healthy love of lasagna and mint chocolate chip ice cream.
I haven’t gone to the bathroom by myself since 2006. Some people can lock the door. I get a kid throwing himself against the door and screaming like he is dying until you come out. Ever need a moment to relax and just let nature and gravity work its magic? Try that when two kids are screaming, “MOM, I have to go potty right now!” This means the pee is already running down their leg at that point so you better hurry up. And if you do forget to lock the door, brace yourself, your daughter will barge in and need a hug at that moment, no matter how smelly it is. Ever have commentary on the smell? Like you are the only one in the house with smelly #2s? Ever have them so excited they are screaming for you to get up so they can see it and provide commentary? That’s fun. I won’t even begin to explain the joys of my monthly friend. Most answers to those questions are, “I’ll tell you in 6 years,” or “You won’t need to know these details, ask your dad,” or “No, that isn’t a bomb, a parachute or a mouse.”
My husband has been trying to talk me into a toilet in the basement, which is the only place in our house we could put a second bathroom. Problem is, we have a septic system, which means the waste must go uphill to get to the tank from the basement. That’s easy, just get an $800 toilet, which we can only do when he has a job, but then when he has a job, he isn’t home, so needless to say, it hasn’t gotten done yet.
Until we can afford an $800 toilet, we will be the definition of middle class. Come on over Mitt, take a number, see how real people live. I dare you.