I love watching How Clean is Your House? for two reasons:
1. When I feel my house is a total pit and should be condemned, I turn this show on and immediately feel better.
2. Even in my moment of pride, I am still highly motivated to pull out the vacuum and spray everything in site with bleach...
I am truly amazed that these people, after living for YEARS in dust mite poo, liquid E-coli, sleazy salmonella, and animal filth, are STILL functioning and like, have jobs, friends, etc.
2. Even in my moment of pride, I am still highly motivated to pull out the vacuum and spray everything in site with bleach...
I am truly amazed that these people, after living for YEARS in dust mite poo, liquid E-coli, sleazy salmonella, and animal filth, are STILL functioning and like, have jobs, friends, etc.
Then I sit there and think wait, is filth as bad as we are told it is? Because, while many of these folks’ personalities are dead, they themselves aren’t exactly knocking at Death’s door. So, as I think deeply about this juxtaposition between filthiness and health, I try to find a balance, because frankly, I am a germaphobe, and I abuse hand sanitizer. I am leery of every surface I see, and every hand I shake; every time I turn around, I am squirting alcohol into my hands or my kids’ hands, because evil germs lurk everywhere.
In fact my worst nightmare? Public bathrooms.
Now, I know some people can’t poo in public, and the lingering smell of 409 and monthly cycle is too much for even those with the strongest constitution, but for me, it’s the 187 bazillion germs running rampant like drunk, naked frat boys that freak me out!
Ya know in the last Matrix movie, where Neo sees the green codes instead of actual things and people? That’s me. I don’t see the bathroom, I see the germ codes.
Seriously, I am two steps away from either forcing my family to wear Depends or carrying a blow-torch while in public. I am pretty sure either could get me arrested, though.
So, I do what I can. Unfortunately, I cannot fight the germ battle without my kids getting in the way. They just HAVE to use the bathroom when we are out, and Audge ALWAYS has to poo. She inevitably asks to go, and I groan loud enough for everyone in the restaurant or mall to hear us as I pull out my hand sanitizer and force myself to walk towards the bathroom and enter in.
This is me and Audrey in the stall:
Kim: Audrey, DON’T.TOUCH.ANYTHING!
Audrey: Kay, mommy.
Kim: NOOOOO! Don’t even rest against the stall door!
Audrey: OOOOOOOOKAY mommy!
Kim: In fact, put your hands on your head.
Audrey: Why?
Kim: Don’t ask, just do it, please!
The poor child is standing as rigid as possible, with her hands on her head, as I layer the toilet seat with about 250 layers of toilet paper (and if any falls off I have to start all over again.) I ALSO lay paper in that spot where the toilet seat separates, right in the front, ya know? I let that cascade down because, yuck, there are drips…seriously…
I then get her ready, making sure her undies are secure inside her rolled down pants so no part of it hits the floor or the toilet. I then instruct her to stick her legs straight out and I then sit her on the potty. At this point she holds onto me for dear life as she knows she is no way controlling her movements anymore.
OH OH OH! I also lay a lot of toilet paper in the toilet water itself, to reduce splash factor in case she is dropping rabbit pellet-like poo.
In the last year I have encountered a new obstacle, humidity. So, in the summer, this whole routine is made worse by the TP sticking to all skin surfaces that touch it. I now must remember to powder us up before we leave the house.
But usually from here, I do my best to get her back into her clothes and then pray, with all that I am, that my feverish attempts to protect her skin from the evil toilet do not cause a stop-up and overflow.
So, just in case…
I wait until I can’t hear anyone in the bathroom, then I push open the door, shove her out, with her hands on her head, and flush the toilet with my foot, and run away from the stall as fast as I can.
Then we wash our hands and I pretend like I know nothing about that stall, in case it...you know...it floods.
Then of course after lathering up and washing with the hottest water possible, I open the door using a paper towel, 'cause I KNOW there are women out there not washing their hands!!!
We get out and I use about a gallon of hand sanitizer on both of us, and I even encourage her to cough with me, in case we inhaled any toilet spray, just to try and stop it from settling in our mucus membranes.
Yeah. I think a blow torch would be easier.
In fact my worst nightmare? Public bathrooms.
Now, I know some people can’t poo in public, and the lingering smell of 409 and monthly cycle is too much for even those with the strongest constitution, but for me, it’s the 187 bazillion germs running rampant like drunk, naked frat boys that freak me out!
Ya know in the last Matrix movie, where Neo sees the green codes instead of actual things and people? That’s me. I don’t see the bathroom, I see the germ codes.
Seriously, I am two steps away from either forcing my family to wear Depends or carrying a blow-torch while in public. I am pretty sure either could get me arrested, though.
So, I do what I can. Unfortunately, I cannot fight the germ battle without my kids getting in the way. They just HAVE to use the bathroom when we are out, and Audge ALWAYS has to poo. She inevitably asks to go, and I groan loud enough for everyone in the restaurant or mall to hear us as I pull out my hand sanitizer and force myself to walk towards the bathroom and enter in.
This is me and Audrey in the stall:
Kim: Audrey, DON’T.TOUCH.ANYTHING!
Audrey: Kay, mommy.
Kim: NOOOOO! Don’t even rest against the stall door!
Audrey: OOOOOOOOKAY mommy!
Kim: In fact, put your hands on your head.
Audrey: Why?
Kim: Don’t ask, just do it, please!
The poor child is standing as rigid as possible, with her hands on her head, as I layer the toilet seat with about 250 layers of toilet paper (and if any falls off I have to start all over again.) I ALSO lay paper in that spot where the toilet seat separates, right in the front, ya know? I let that cascade down because, yuck, there are drips…seriously…
I then get her ready, making sure her undies are secure inside her rolled down pants so no part of it hits the floor or the toilet. I then instruct her to stick her legs straight out and I then sit her on the potty. At this point she holds onto me for dear life as she knows she is no way controlling her movements anymore.
OH OH OH! I also lay a lot of toilet paper in the toilet water itself, to reduce splash factor in case she is dropping rabbit pellet-like poo.
In the last year I have encountered a new obstacle, humidity. So, in the summer, this whole routine is made worse by the TP sticking to all skin surfaces that touch it. I now must remember to powder us up before we leave the house.
But usually from here, I do my best to get her back into her clothes and then pray, with all that I am, that my feverish attempts to protect her skin from the evil toilet do not cause a stop-up and overflow.
So, just in case…
I wait until I can’t hear anyone in the bathroom, then I push open the door, shove her out, with her hands on her head, and flush the toilet with my foot, and run away from the stall as fast as I can.
Then we wash our hands and I pretend like I know nothing about that stall, in case it...you know...it floods.
Then of course after lathering up and washing with the hottest water possible, I open the door using a paper towel, 'cause I KNOW there are women out there not washing their hands!!!
We get out and I use about a gallon of hand sanitizer on both of us, and I even encourage her to cough with me, in case we inhaled any toilet spray, just to try and stop it from settling in our mucus membranes.
Yeah. I think a blow torch would be easier.
11 comments:
Wow. After reading this hoot of a blog entry, I went straight to Yellow Pages dot com and looked up the number of your hometown therapist. (Not for you...but for your kids). Cuz they might just need it in the future.
Of course, it will get worse. In a few years from now, you will be reading about how you brought them to the bathroom in THEIR future blogs.......
But at least you CARE.
Think how many bad moms there are out there that say..."yeah, honey..you run in and go by yourself while Mom grabs another beer here from this hunk of a bartender. If someone tries to touch you, you just yell reallllll loud so I can hear you over this rap music,ok hon??? And if mommy isn't in the bar when you get back, just ask Uncle Bob here to watch after you a bit...I will be back after I (ahem) have a little "alone time" with this bartender here..."
Anyway, I don't think Social Services count teaching your kids bathroom phobia constitutes child abuse. Not yet, anyway.
LOL
HAHA! I am pretty much a lost cause, huh? ;)
I try to say "because!" and only, "because" to them during these phobic episodes so they will be confused enough to shrug off my strange behavior when they get older...
I was normal before I had kids, promise!!
"Bar Mama" sounds awful! That was funny! Thanks for the laugh here at my own blog! :)
We finally got to the point where we can take our children out to eat without meltdowns (sometimes), diaper changes, bottles etc. Now, they've turned into these little investigators who feel the need to check out every public bathroom known to man. I think my three year old is more amused by the automatic toilet that flushes before he finishes. Somehow he believes he has to find more urine before it flushes again. Then we make it to the sink where he manages to just reach under the faucet, except it turns off before he has a chance to wash the suds off. Lastly the never ending paper towels which work like a wand: Just wave your hand and a paper towel will appear. Only it's enough paper towels to soak up the water from a bathtub.
By the time we leave I'm ready to be hosed down in a level 4 decontamination unit.
I so feel your pain!
I honestly don't know what to say to this blog post but I feel compelled to comment. I think I love you, Kim. I think I do.
Thanks for our button over there======>
too!
Oh my gosh .... are we TWINS!?!? You made me laugh at loud - than you (and because I was reading about myself, lol!!)
Oh Jenny, I got a little belly flutter over your comment! Thank you! See all, it's not hard to love "crazy"...
Yes Melissa, I am finding twins all over the place; either we all have the same babbydaddy sperm donor, or there is truly a mold somewhere that we came from, or out of, I'm not sure!
Dude. This is a transcript of what I say in the bathroom:
Me: Addie, please keep your hands to yourself.
Me: Addie! stand still!
Me: Addie! That does NOT mean you get to put your face on the wall!
Me: ADDIE! GET OFF THE FLOOR AND I MEAN NOW!
Me: ADDIE! PUT THAT DOWN! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT IT IS! *I* DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT IT IS!
Me: ...Sigh.
Hey Kim! You just favorited me on linkreferral.I appreciate it bunches! I found your blog by doing a search for Kentucky blogs. I love your blog and am following it too. i will pop in and read as much as I can I love your sense of humor LOL
First, you may need some kind of therapy. Second, I'm sort of similar, but not that far into making sure my son doesn't touch anything gross ... and boys are SO much worse.
You have a really great blog. I'd comment more,but I'm at work. I'll bookmark you and be back.
P.S. I stole your button too.
If I have succeeded in making at least one person not feel as crazy as I am, then my work for the day is done! :)
Look forward to seeing you around, Jonny's Mommy!!
Well, I've got a son and I STILL tell him to stand with his hands in the air (not on his head cause the germs may crawl down his face into his eyes and mouth)...I bought some Wet Ones antibacterial wipes in individual pouches from Walmart. I keep them in the diaper bag and my purse. So I wipe the seat with it, then let him go...holding his winkie so it doens't touch the front (I know I can't do that when he's like 7...but he's 4 now, so I'm holding it)!!! Then if I have to go, with it sanitized, I STILL put loads of TP on the toilet...then push him out, step on the flusher with my foot, and go wash forever...and I do open the doors with a paper towel too!! Ugh! How sickening. You're not crazy! Who wants to sit in other people's pee???
--Jaime Williamson
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