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.
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.
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.