Purgatory is Found in Sharing a Bathroom with Boys
(Or: My Aim is True, Shouldn't Yours Be, Too?)
I live in a household with four males. I’m used to noise, dirt, salamanders, an assortment of befriended insects, and general mayhem all around. I’m unfazed by legions of Legos, World of Warcrack, stacks of proliferating Pokemon cards, and grass stains on brand new school pants. I routinely empty pockets full of feathers, rocks, paper clips, and other assorted boy tchochkes and never (OK, rarely) complain. One thing I will never get used to, however, is sharing a bathroom with them.
If you’re a woman reading this who lives with males, you will understand immediately what I’m getting at: you’ve sat down on the toilet on more than one occasion and gotten a wet behind. What’s worse is that it’s often our jobs to clean up these errant aims. It’s maddening and yet in my house anyway, no one will admit to being the culprit.
How on earth can they possibly get pee all over the seat? It shouldn’t be that difficult. For crying out loud, they’ve got a built-in handle on that thing. Can’t they at least steer it in the proper direction? Do they do a hula dance or something while they’re taking a leak?
I’ve done my best to help improve the situation. I’ve spent countless hours instructing them on how to improve their aim. When the kids were little, I’d float bits of toilet paper in the bowl and let them practice aiming. Sometimes, for the “you-sunk-my-battleship” kind of fun, I’d float Cheerios in there. You would think that with so much practice, by the ages of 8, 12, and 18, they’d have gotten the hang of it. I’m now thinking that they might need a remedial course. Maybe even Summer School.
I’ve asked nicely: Can you please clean up any dribbles after you’re finished so I don’t have to sit in pee? I’ve threatened: If I sit in your pee one more time, you’re going to come in here to clean it up. I’ve tried rewards: One week of pee-free sitting and it’s water ice for everyone! Wheee! Nothing has worked. I still find pee on the seat.
I’ve come to the conclusion that this, as my old Italian grandmother used to say, must be my cross to bear. It is what it is and I will have to deal with it. As long as there are boys in the house, I’m fated to have to check the seat every time before I sit. As long as we share the same address, I’ll always have to inspect the bathroom for wayward drops before guests use it.The only thing that keeps me going? They can’t live at home forever!