What my bathroom says about me
Note: Despite the title, this is NOT one of those posts about my gastrointestinal issues post-weight-loss-surgery, OR my recent anal surgery that was a direct result of my gastrointestinal issues post-weight-loss surgery. For once.
Apparently on Law and Order they always check your bathroom. After you’ve been reported missing, or dead, or whatever — they go into your bathroom and rifle through your stuff to get a clear picture of the kind of person you were (are).
(Note #2: Nothing happened to me, detectives! I found a really good deal on Trave*lzoo.com for a weekend trip to Hawaii and I’m off to lie on the beach and sip drinks — and I’m leaving my cell phone at home! I’ll be back on Monday before naptime. Seriously, what happens to someone who drives a minivan with four car seats? A criminal would pity me, not carjack me.)
I hope that the detectives would take a few seconds to recognize that most of the stuff in my bathroom wasn’t actually a reflection of me; it was a reflection of the fact that the Le*go dinosaur ship just happened to go into time out while I was about to jump into the shower — during which the water temperature fluctuated wildly because my children decided, while I was in there, that they might actually enjoy this whole “flushing” nonsense that they’d previously derided as one of my antiquated rituals that was beneath them.
So: Le*gos. At the least.
Probably also a Bar*bie or something that represents The Informant; possibly a stuffed animal or blanket. The Le*gos are usually Mineral’s, so we’ll assume there’s also an item in honor of Animal — most likely a stick or clothes hanger that has been fashioned into a vicious weapon of mass destruction because — even you mommies who are pacifists and communicate with only non-violent communication — if you have a boy, it will be a gun. Trust me. I have two.
(Note #3: I have a very tall friend who once asked, before our first play-date with our children, if there were any guns in my house. My first response was, “Have you considered trying Zol*oft first?” My second — actual — response was, “Of course we don’t have guns! We’re democrats!”)
Next you’ll find money. Money. I find money in a bathroom utterly repulsive. I have no idea why — except that it’s so incongruous to find money in a bathroom. I live in a house in a suburb of Charlotte; it’s not a seedy disco with prostitutes hanging out near the toilets. We’re not at Studio 54; we use the bathroom for the three S’s, none of which is sex.
And: pens. See above note on the incredible incongruousness. Pens without paper. Pens for My Masterpiece to use to color the walls while I’m peeing.
Oh yes, because you’ll also find My Masterpiece in the bathroom. She has never witnessed a shower she didn’t want in on. In fact, she will sit outside the shower door and cry until I let her in, at which point she will sit on the shower floor, holding her left hand up to feel the “rain,” and sucking her right thumb happily. (Note #4: This is why she is my masterpiece. Even if she wanted a shower, The Informant would not stop tattletailing long enough to remove her clothes and get in; Animal and Mineral want privacy in the bathroom now, thanks, mom.)
What else will you find in the bathroom? A chew toy. For the Dog Without a Downside. Of course. Because that’s where a chew toy belongs. And that’s where the Dog Without a Downside belongs when it’s chew-on-a-chew-toy time. In my bathroom. Laying on the rug. Waiting for me to get out of the shower so she can lick the clean water off me. It tastes almost as good as toilet water.
Probably the worst thing you’ll find in my bathroom is a complete lack-of-cleanliness — which I can explain. You see, I have people over frequently. I’m wildly friendly. Also, we have a spring-free trampoline in the backyard — called Suzy Springfree — and therefore we attract all the neighborhood kids. And then their mothers come to get them for dinner. And inevitably someone has to use a bathroom — so I keep the guest bathroom really clean. I want these acquaintance-friends who have not yet made it up the ladder to friend-friends or even friends to think that aside from raising four children and training The Dog Without a Downside — aside from homeschooling and cooking organic-only meals from scratch — my other hobbies include scrubbing the toilet eight times a day for fun! With my own cleaner! Made with all non-toxic ingredients! That’s me! Giving a totally accurate representation of myself, I swear! Just don’t go upstairs.