Being 33 weeks pregnant, the most often used room in my house has got to be the bathroom. Being a woman in a houseful of men, I always have to be on my guard when I go to use the facilities, though. Stumbling into the bathroom in my stupor at o-dark-thirty is likely to end up with my nether regions taking an unexpected bath if I’m not aware of my surroundings. When I found out that Baby #3 was a boy, I lamented “Oh great, I have to teach ANOTHER one to put the seat down.”
Potty training is all on Diva Husband, and he’s excellent at that job. My rationale was that since I have girly bits, not boy bits, I can’t really give my boys the full experience of standing, aiming, and doing the deed. He had The Manimal trained in nothing flat.
Pooping is another matter entirely. The art of wiping seems to escape children. Too much toilet paper, too little toilet paper, to flush a baby wipe, to not flush a baby wipe, to use kleenex in a pinch…
I’m sure those of you with small people in your homes understand.
I have to say though, that, the former on that list hasn’t really been a terrible problem for us. We’re not flying through toilet paper like crazy. I haven’t had to wonder if my kids are storing up for an emergency. Occasionally, when doing laundry, I’ve actually discovered that I may need to have a discussion with them regarding *ahem* using too few of those precious squares.
Clearly I’m lucky in this regard. My fellow blogger, Spuds, is not so lucky. Spuds is a single dad raising 6 pygmies, the youngest 4 of whom have a penchant for paper. Go check out his blog “Carrying a Cat by the Tail” and read about it!
But be warned, you might need a roll of paper to wipe the tears or whatever may issue forth from various facial orifices as you snort with laughter.