Letting it go to your Head.

Ok, I've got to share about a very special room in our house. It's a room that gets a LOT of usage. Can you guess? Yes, the laundry room gets a lot of use, but it's not constant. I kind of go in waves with laundry. Let it pile up....then wipe it out in one fell swoop...then let it pile up again. But, nope, not the laundry room.

The den gets lots of traffic, kids playing, TV watching, dog chillin', you get the idea. But, that's not the room that gets the most continuous usage...

It's the bathroom, the john, the HEAD, the commode, the sh*tter. More specifically, it's the master bath, MY bathroom. Now, let me start by saying, for the last eleven years of my marriage, I have lived in tiny apartments with one bathroom. ONE bathroom. And, with two boys and a always-busy-bowel hubby, that kept that one room constantly occupied. And messy. One time my oldest son and I both got the throw-up/diarrhea virus, and we had to take turns...he ended up sleeping on the floor in there...it wasn't pretty, my friends. We'll move on now...

So, now we have a bigger home with three bathrooms. Yes, THREE bathrooms. It's luxurious to say the least. It feels sinful. Of course, now my elderly father has moved in, so there are five of us, but still, three bathrooms is MORE THAN ENOUGH. It makes me so happy.

However, the boys still seem to think we have only ONE bathroom. It's puzzling to say the least. Everyone comes to our bathroom to do their business. It has a constant flow of traffic (except for my dad). And, this leads to not only me often sitting down on a wet seat (because my boys have poor aim) but it also leads to a plethora of reading material stored in there.

So, I want to share with you today the varied books and magazines that are currently stacked in my bathroom.

First, My Wall Street Journal and OED are in there to read, because that's all I read...ok, just kidding. I have a few books in there...because I'm always reading, and I've always got more than one book going at a time. They're usually mysteries or smutty fiction or urban fantasy or an occasional Dummies book to tell you how to get your life in order someway or another. I don't pee on the seat, I keep things neat and piled, and I don't leave a mess when I'm done.

Now my hubby. (He doesn't read this blog, or he might kill me.) So, with his being a lawyer and all, maybe I'll say it this way, so I don't get in trouble. HYPOTHETICALLY, there might be man in my life who uses my bathroom and leaves his reading material in there, along with coffee spills and the damn fan running nonstop, never to be turned off. Hypothetically. Allegedly. Quid pro quo.

I'm always wiping up these coffee stains he doesn't seem to notice (please, god, let them be coffee and not something else brown and wet). And, I find the fan running and have to turn it off...all the time. (I'm not convinced that fan thing really works, by the way.) His reading material falls more along the lines of The Art of Cross Examination and funny books by Kinky Friedman, Stephen Colbert and Borat.

Then there are a few articles on the dangers of smoking and how to quit that I printed from the computer and left in strategic places for hubby to find and read...the bathroom being one of them. He read them...and they weren't thrown away...YET. I leave lots of helpful little articles like that for him to read. He never knows what he's going to find in there.

Then, there's the kids. OH boy, here we go. They either have poor eyesight or just can't control their peepees because I'm amazed at where the pee ends up. And, no one seems to believe in lifting the seat anymore, so the seat gets wet with dribbles, and guess who ends up with a wet butt? Me, the sitter. I'm getting better at looking first, but I still don't always. It's never, ever a nice surprise.

Now, Remy (who's six) doesn't read in the bathroom. Instead, he disappears in there and chatters away. To himself or an imaginary friend, I'm not sure. I just now he starts jabberin' away and doesn't stop. I seriously need to record it (just from outside the door, not invading privacy, people!). We all giggle just listening to him go on and on so cheerfully. It's his happy time. He even sings.

Donny (who's elven) reads. Donny has left lots of reading material in my bathroom. There's the Kids National Geographic magazines, which are so cool that I end up reading them too. I've learned some really neat stuff in there. Seriously.

Then he has a small book full of facts about Space and a huge book called Big Book of Living Things that he is always quoting info from. He has one of these in the car that's similar, so I get to hear ALL about as we drive errands. Nonstop facts zipping over my head...

Anyway, back on task. Donny has a baseball card magazine, because he's decided to start collecting those. (Just when I thought we were done with Pokemon cards, that I would find everywhere, now we have MORE cards underfoot.) Then, the kicker, for Donny, there's a book called It's Perfectly Normal; Changing Bodies, Growing Up, Sex & Sexual Health.

The look on Donny's face when he saw this book I bought for him. (Remember, he's eleven) He told me he was NOT reading it.

But, you see, here's the thing, he was sick and missed school the day they had the sex education video and talk at school, so someone has to teach him these things right? I was hoping to leave it to the school but I guess I'll have to be the parent and do my job.

So, I told we could either have THE TALK or he could read the damn book. He chose to read the book.

There are sections labeled:

What is sex?

Our Bodies.

Puberty

Familes and Babies

Decisions

Staying Healthy.

It covers being straight or gay, different body types, what kind of physical contact is ok or not ok, how making babies happens, what your body goes through during puberty, etc. Excellent illustrations. And, I've told him to ask me any questions he has...or ask his dad.

Now that I think about it, you can learn a LOT in our bathroom. You never know what you might find in there...just look before you sit down, ok? Can't say I didn't warn you.