Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Operation Tampon Drop: Urgently Inserting Some Privacy Into Mama's Bathroom!

(*I hastily scratched much of the following potty-mouthed rant in my bathroom journal. Yes, I keep a journal there. I never know when my word-slinging muse will call. Admit it. I can’t be the only pressed for time mama who reads and writes from her pot-perch.)

It’s not easy to relax on the toilet with my nosey 2-year-old, Pigtail Sprite, afoot, inquisitively peeping between my stubbly knees and reeking of her own freshly diaper-laid “business.” Gross, I know. Brace yourself if you're feeling brave enough to read on because I’m about to boldly “go there,” ‘k?


(“Master bedroom” makes it sound as if I boast some some seriously palatial digs. Don’t be fooled. I reside in a standard, three-bedroom, two-bath suburban Southern California stucco home. And I'm very grateful for it, uber-realtor bro-in-law and doting hubster.)

The other day I stupidly allowed my kids to exfoliate each other’s beady forearms with my husband’s electric toothbrush for kicks (sorry, honey ... I'll spring for a new one) while I willy nilly slapped foundation on before darting off in the minivan for this school or that function.

From my toilet view, I’m fully aware that my kids (mis)use my Dove deodorant stick, dragging it generously sometimes on their sleeves and even behind their knobby knees. At least someone around here remembers to use B.O. thwarting "pit juice," as my friend Nate nastily calls it.

Also, you never know when my my dueling aspiring barber sons might dunk their metrosexual in training fingers into my overpriced Bed Head hair goop and spontaneously spruce up each other’s super-California faux-hawk hairdos.

Yes, my three-kids-aster (disaster, if you didn't catch that) has turned my in name only “private bath” into a meddling kid owned and (dis)operated extension of the CVS Pharmacy feminine hygiene aisle. While I attempt my own potty progress, if you know what I mean, they can be found just inches away from trying-in-earnest me sharpening their fine motor skills via the following choice bathroom wreck-tivities:

- unwrapping tampons (more like tearing them to cottony shreds), then firing them from their plastic applicator cannons into the left-running by small hands sink above (this brand of “fire in the hole” tampon target practice actually requires mad doses of kid-skills and concentration)
- taking turns shotgunning dulce de leche flavored warming lube (this unfortunately and somewhat ashamedly on my part, happened only once ... Don't worry ... I shook my pint-sized offenders down after a slippery tug-o-war to extract the bottle of “it’s just some adults-only scented sunblock, kids” from their grubbing hands, then discreetly tucking it away in a much more appropriate under lock and key bedside location)
- numbly nibbling on various bad-for-your-skin Lever brand soaps (I think they got a few ideas from the holiday classic A Christmas Story, one of my probably not kid appropriate film favorites)
- artfully decorating each other from head to toe with thong-shaped Kotex mini pads (I wanted to take a picture of their menacing twist on “pin the thong on the donkey” for future blackmail but knew I shouldn’t)

Just last week Pigtail Sprite expertly peeled the shrink warp from a super-plus do-it-yourself O.B. tampon (TMI check received, thank you) and found an inventive newfangled use for it; She used it as a cotton-parachute-anchored string toy for our kitten, Tricks-y.

Pigtail Sprite dangled the semi-opened umbrella resembling fluid catcher by its flimsy rip-cord and drove the cat wild before I finally decided something was very wrong with that picture and concluded that a tampon was not an appropriate toy for a cat. So, I wonder, why is it appropriate for humans, especially the humans I created? Gawd’, my kids are going to be so screwed up by the time I’m through with them.

An emergency call to create potty privacy protocol is in urgent need around the casa di Domestic Slackstress, no? This should be a priority NOW immediate action-item when my 2-year-old daughter knows where a tampon goes better than your pubescent babysitter.

Of course, a much-needed bathroom privacy policy might be tough to carry out even for me, who can be found on any given Sunday slipping pieces of paper with messages like “I know what you did IN THERE last summer!” and “Do us all a favor and light a friggin' match, would ‘ya?!” beneath the bathroom door while my husband’s on the commode. (I have been known to do this from time to time for my own immature pleasure. Way to model behavior for your impressionable kids, mama!)

As evidenced in this Child Services self-incriminating privacy-wanted potty post, my bathroom boundaries are murky at best. In writing this, I’m reminded of how I really should not allow my kids to flow freely like a foul current of un-fresh air through the two doors that open into my supposedly "private" back bathroom.

So if I bitch about wanting to flush my spinning head instead of other unmentionables down the toilet while I’m anything but alone in the can, well, it’s my own stinkin’ fault.


At 2:43 PM, Blogger mad muthas said...

dulce de leche lube!?! RESPECT!

At 7:05 PM, Blogger crazymumma said...

Oh ma Gawd! That was so funny I could barely raise my wine to my lips....
My little girl once made a 'bracelet' out of mini pads.

At 7:16 PM, Blogger Little Miss said...

Oh my gosh, I'm laughing so hard i have tears streaming down my face. I'm trying desperately not to wake my threekidsaster (love the term)!

And I can SO RELATE! We need a bathroom privacy policy as well. But could you please tell my daughter the beauty of a courtesy flush? She funked up the whole downstairs while "waiting for more poop to come out".

fyi, I am SO LINKING YOU. sorry, but i'll be back for more.

At 8:00 PM, Blogger Mad Hatter said...

Laugh? I thought I'd die.

When we first hired a regular sitter several months ago now, my husband did a walk-through training tour of the house and showed the sitter, one of his former students, where to find the panty liners and tampons because they were at the time my daughter's favourite toy. Oh how the mighty fall.

At 9:50 PM, Blogger jen said...

whoops..i just had to pick myself up off the floor....

your place sounds FUN. i'll bring the wine.

At 7:37 AM, Blogger Miz BoheMia said...

I can sooooo relate! I have a stash of tampons by each toilet, in a plastic box, hidden away and for the longest time my son would grab them, try to open the colorful packaging as he screamed that he wanted toe at the Muesli... now it is quite a well known fact and to do when my period comes around and they both, disgusted yet curios as hell, sneak in to catch a peak as to the actual use of the damn things... my son worried about his penis going through that! Oy!

At 8:12 AM, Blogger KELLI BELLY said...

Sounds like some activities that go on in our bathroom. Gianna's too concerned about my "hair hiney". Thats what she calls my girl parts only reminding me I need to give myself a trim and my husband is better groomed than me. Thanks for paying me a visit :0)

At 8:29 AM, Blogger Just Me said...

Makes me glad the husband and I still haven't seen each other pee. We honestly can't bring ourselves too it. Maybe when we have some kids the privacy policy will still be intact. LMAO - your blog is great!!!

At 12:50 PM, Blogger Crunchy Carpets said...

I am glad your house sounds the same as my house.

Makes me feel a whooooole lot better.

And apparently DOVE soap is ok to eat but Irish Spring is not.

At 4:09 PM, Blogger Lucia said...

By the time I got to the parachute-anchored string toy for the kitty, I was fully engulfed in gales of very unsophisticated snorty laughter.

At 7:05 PM, Blogger AtYourCervix said...

This is probably the most hilarious - and oh so true - post I have read about parenthood in a looooooong time! As soon as I read "fire in the hole", I could not stop laughing....darn...peed my pants from laughing so hard!! (or was that some urinary incontinence from birthing 3 kiddos??)


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