I am vigilant about closing the toilet lid at home after doing my thing and before flushing. I saw a captivating, gag-reflex inducing 60-second clip on some news show a few years ago about the “spray” that occurs during the flush. The spray that includes droplets of your Number 1 or NUMBER 2. Oh, dear God.
But I took control of the matter and began insisting that toilet lids be put down when flushing. I explained to Hubby that the super-spray will travel right over to our toothbrushes standing clean and pretty in their toothbrush holders and attach itself thereby allowing us to brush our teeth with our own pee. Need I say more?
For a while, I put the toothbrush holder in the closet because I was just so repulsed by all of this. But what about the towels? The faucet? The doorknobs? Do I turn the entire room into a bowl with 4 walls and that’s it? So toilet seat down is the rule in this house.
And then a few days ago, I was watching the Today Show, my only source of any kind of news. That, and The Daily Show. Actually, it was Kathy Lee Gifford and Hoda, the so-called “4th Hour,” so I don’t even know if that counts as news. I was informed that a new study found that using the paper towels in many public restrooms may leave you with unwanted bacteria on your hands. WHAT? The paper towels that I use to dry my CLEAN hands?
And then I had not an “AHA!” moment, but a “DUH!” moment. It’s the spray, people. The SPRAY! There are no lids in most public restrooms. If I’d been grossed out by my own family’s bodily fluids spewing back at me, why hadn’t I even thought of the strangers’? Oh, wait, I know why. Because I would’ve set myself into the very panic that I’ve been experiencing since seeing that mind-shattering news clip on Wednesday. Do you want to know how long the spray lasts? I bet you do! The bacteria can float around in the air for 10-20 minutes. So when you walk into that bathroom, you are basically getting pee’d on. Or worse.
Now that I’ve vowed to never use a public restroom again, I realize this may not be very practical. Especially since I have had the pleasure of carrying a child who sat on my bladder for 41 weeks then made members of the urinary tract decide they ruled the roost. My urinary tract cackles and conspires, “We know she just relieved herself before leaving for Target, but we’ll have some work to do about 10 minutes in!” So all my intentions of never stepping foot into a Ladies’ Room again will either end with me peeing myself in Housewares or braving the restroom.
In anticipation of the germ-infested, other people’s poop-ridden lavatory, I will pack myself an Emergency Excretion Kit. EEK for short. Because that’s what I’ll shout when I have to walk in there. It’s either this or a full-on hazmat suit. And what’s weirder? Walking around with a hazmat suit or your own adult potty bag? Well, you decide.
The EEK will include:
1.A face mask just like the people of Asia wore during that whole bird flu breakout. This will prevent all the floaters from getting in your nose and mouth.
2.Latex gloves. You know it’s serious when latex gloves are involved. Or kinky. This, though, is totally NOT kinky.
3.A roll of Saran Wrap is not only useful for practical jokes in the potty. After elimination and before flushing, cover the seat to prevent your spray from literally smacking you in the face. Because you are right there, hovering over the toilet as you flush, with your FOOT. Unless you are superhuman and can bolt out of the stall before the toilet actually flushes.
4.Paper towels. I thought just bringing my own papers towels would be sufficient, but don’t forget about the spray. It’s not only on the paper towels; it’s on the walls, the faucets, and lingering in the air ready to get on you.
5.Your own soap. Do not touch the soap dispenser. Your mantra should be “The Spray.” It’s everywhere. Of course, if you are wearing your latex gloves as suggested, you can’t really wash your hands. That’s a glitch we may have to work on in the EEK!
6.Rubbing alcohol and cotton balls. Skip the hand sanitizer and go straight to the good stuff. As you exit the Bowels of Hell, you must wipe down every square millimeter of exposed skin with the magical sanitizing powers of alcohol.
*It is assumed that no one is actually sitting on the toilet. If you need to actually place your cheeks on the Throne of Bacteria, use those paper towels to cover the seat, about 5 layers thick.
Of course, you could skip the EEK and just wear Depends.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Monday, December 5, 2011
Don't Stop Believin'
While discussing the all-important Christmas list last week, Monkey Man told me he wanted the Spiderman Lego game for the Wii. I hadn't heard about this game, but I made a mental note and prepared to jot it down on my list. This child knows more than me on almost every topic, so I especially took his word for it about a video game and that there was indeed a Spiderman Lego game for the Wii.
When Hubby got home from work, I asked Monkey Man to tell his dad what he wanted. In addition to an electric guitar (Hells to the NO says Santa) he told him about the Spiderman Lego game for the Wii. Lego games for the Wii are popular around here and we are the proud owners of Lego Indiana Jones, Lego Star Wars, Lego Harry Potter, Lego Batman, Lego some other game that Mommy has no clue how to play because it involves strategy.
But Hubby didn't seem to know about this Spiderman game. So he asked Monkey Man if there was such a game. And Monkey Man's response? "I don't know, but the Elves can make it."
We told Monkey Man that the elves don't really make technological toys, they go to the store to buy those. What does he think, these little men with pointy ears who live in the North Pole and work for peanuts for a jolly fat man went to MIT? Who would believe THAT?
When Hubby got home from work, I asked Monkey Man to tell his dad what he wanted. In addition to an electric guitar (Hells to the NO says Santa) he told him about the Spiderman Lego game for the Wii. Lego games for the Wii are popular around here and we are the proud owners of Lego Indiana Jones, Lego Star Wars, Lego Harry Potter, Lego Batman, Lego some other game that Mommy has no clue how to play because it involves strategy.
But Hubby didn't seem to know about this Spiderman game. So he asked Monkey Man if there was such a game. And Monkey Man's response? "I don't know, but the Elves can make it."
We told Monkey Man that the elves don't really make technological toys, they go to the store to buy those. What does he think, these little men with pointy ears who live in the North Pole and work for peanuts for a jolly fat man went to MIT? Who would believe THAT?
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
On the 2nd Day of Thanksgiving...
Oh, and the 3rd day. Oops.
Day 2
Today I am thankful for Diet Coke or Diet Pepsi, preferably Pepsi, but honestly, I'll take whatever is on sale or in the vending machine. I don't drink coffee and I'm so tired that as soon as I get up in the morning I can't wait until it's 16 hours later and I can crawl right back into bed. That artificially sweet beverage is my special treat at lunchtime and I hug it like a baby with its blankie. I just wish it didn't look so weird when I curl up next to it in the Faculty room for my nappie.
Day 3
Today I am also thankful for mindless "reality" television. I am addicted to Real Housewives of New Jersey, New York, Beverly Hills, and Orange County. I also love me some Jersey Shore, in particular Paulie D and Vinnie. Everyone needs time to just sit in front of a TV and let their minds melt. I am also thankful that I have the courage to tell people that I actually watch these shows while so many walk around saying, "Oh, that's garbage. I don't watch that. I read books." Books. Yeah, yeah, we all read books. So, good for you. While you are boring your friends at parties with talk of Middle East nonsense, I am fighting back the beat and discussing at length whether one can be a Real Housewife when one is not married.
Day 2
Today I am thankful for Diet Coke or Diet Pepsi, preferably Pepsi, but honestly, I'll take whatever is on sale or in the vending machine. I don't drink coffee and I'm so tired that as soon as I get up in the morning I can't wait until it's 16 hours later and I can crawl right back into bed. That artificially sweet beverage is my special treat at lunchtime and I hug it like a baby with its blankie. I just wish it didn't look so weird when I curl up next to it in the Faculty room for my nappie.
Day 3
Today I am also thankful for mindless "reality" television. I am addicted to Real Housewives of New Jersey, New York, Beverly Hills, and Orange County. I also love me some Jersey Shore, in particular Paulie D and Vinnie. Everyone needs time to just sit in front of a TV and let their minds melt. I am also thankful that I have the courage to tell people that I actually watch these shows while so many walk around saying, "Oh, that's garbage. I don't watch that. I read books." Books. Yeah, yeah, we all read books. So, good for you. While you are boring your friends at parties with talk of Middle East nonsense, I am fighting back the beat and discussing at length whether one can be a Real Housewife when one is not married.
Monday, November 14, 2011
The 11 Days of Thanksgiving
Why 11 days? Because I meant to start this on November 1 and write something every day for which I am thankful and end on Thanksgiving. However, since I am 2 weeks late, you get 11 days.
Most everyone is thankful for the same kinds of things: family, children, spouses, the family pet, a job, a roof over their heads, blah, blah, blah. Don’t get me wrong, I am also grateful for those things. But that’s so borrring. There are lots of other things for which I am grateful, too. And I know you are dying to know what these are! I must add, these are in no particular order.
Day 1
I am thankful for pajamas. My perfect world would have us all living harmoniously together in colorful plaid pants, pajamas with stripes, polka dots, animals, and paired with a sweatshirt of some kind, preferably one that is well-loved with at least 10 years mileage on it. And yes, my perfect world would also have Rick Springfield romping around next to me in his most rockin' sleeping attire.
The moment I walk in the door from my day, my day meaning I had to go out into the public, I disappear into my room like Superman retreating into his phone booth, and appear moments later in some combination of super comfy pj bottoms and some top that usually never matches. I am sure Monkey Man will remember me fondly by telling people, “Yeah, my mom dressed like a slob and was lazy. Always in those pajamas.”
No matter the occupation, pajamas would be worn at Board meetings, in classrooms, while fighting crime, or ringing up groceries. Lawyers would try the world’s worst criminals in their finest sleepwear. Moms would gather with their children at the park all decked out in their pjs. Oh, how this would eliminate moms looking each other up and down like middle school girls! Unless they were totally jealous that they didn’t have the cupcakes on their pjs.
Most everyone is thankful for the same kinds of things: family, children, spouses, the family pet, a job, a roof over their heads, blah, blah, blah. Don’t get me wrong, I am also grateful for those things. But that’s so borrring. There are lots of other things for which I am grateful, too. And I know you are dying to know what these are! I must add, these are in no particular order.
Day 1
I am thankful for pajamas. My perfect world would have us all living harmoniously together in colorful plaid pants, pajamas with stripes, polka dots, animals, and paired with a sweatshirt of some kind, preferably one that is well-loved with at least 10 years mileage on it. And yes, my perfect world would also have Rick Springfield romping around next to me in his most rockin' sleeping attire.
The moment I walk in the door from my day, my day meaning I had to go out into the public, I disappear into my room like Superman retreating into his phone booth, and appear moments later in some combination of super comfy pj bottoms and some top that usually never matches. I am sure Monkey Man will remember me fondly by telling people, “Yeah, my mom dressed like a slob and was lazy. Always in those pajamas.”
No matter the occupation, pajamas would be worn at Board meetings, in classrooms, while fighting crime, or ringing up groceries. Lawyers would try the world’s worst criminals in their finest sleepwear. Moms would gather with their children at the park all decked out in their pjs. Oh, how this would eliminate moms looking each other up and down like middle school girls! Unless they were totally jealous that they didn’t have the cupcakes on their pjs.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Breaking Up is Hard to Do. Or Not.
While completing the nightly routine of shower, brush teeth, read and tickling his back, Monkey Man informed me of something. As he was lying in bed, getting in one last snuggle with the first woman in his life, he announced:
“I just broke up with my girlfriend.”
I looked at him, quizzically, and asked, “Today, in school?” I could barely even stutter those words as my head was spinning at the revelation that he had a girlfriend. But let’s take this in small bites, shall we?
“No, right now, in my head,” he answered, matter-of-factly. Like this was totally normal. But I guess to a 6 year-old, there was absolutely no oddity to this statement. After all, let us take a look at the courting:
Scene: Playground
As retold by Monkey Man: “Anna, Emily and Kate chased me around the playground and asked me to pick which one of them was my girlfriend. I picked Emily.” There you have it, a courtship rivaling that of centuries-old arranged marriages.
Regarding the breakup, I gave Monkey Man some motherly, womanly, HUMANE advice. “You might want to let her know tomorrow.”
“I will. I’ll tell her we are through,” he said, and added the visual of his hand, palm down, going across his neck. Geez, poor girl doesn’t stand a chance.
“That’s a little harsh,” I replied to his Sopranos-like break-up. “How about you tell her that you don’t think it’s going to work out? Maybe that you realized you don’t have much in common, like you see the cookies she eats during snack and you don’t like that kind. Or her taste in music is a little more Disney Channel than your taste in Def Leppard.”
“Yeah, I’m tired, good night,” he said, clearly fraught with worry about the looming real-life breakup he would be initiating tomorrow.
“I just broke up with my girlfriend.”
I looked at him, quizzically, and asked, “Today, in school?” I could barely even stutter those words as my head was spinning at the revelation that he had a girlfriend. But let’s take this in small bites, shall we?
“No, right now, in my head,” he answered, matter-of-factly. Like this was totally normal. But I guess to a 6 year-old, there was absolutely no oddity to this statement. After all, let us take a look at the courting:
Scene: Playground
As retold by Monkey Man: “Anna, Emily and Kate chased me around the playground and asked me to pick which one of them was my girlfriend. I picked Emily.” There you have it, a courtship rivaling that of centuries-old arranged marriages.
Regarding the breakup, I gave Monkey Man some motherly, womanly, HUMANE advice. “You might want to let her know tomorrow.”
“I will. I’ll tell her we are through,” he said, and added the visual of his hand, palm down, going across his neck. Geez, poor girl doesn’t stand a chance.
“That’s a little harsh,” I replied to his Sopranos-like break-up. “How about you tell her that you don’t think it’s going to work out? Maybe that you realized you don’t have much in common, like you see the cookies she eats during snack and you don’t like that kind. Or her taste in music is a little more Disney Channel than your taste in Def Leppard.”
“Yeah, I’m tired, good night,” he said, clearly fraught with worry about the looming real-life breakup he would be initiating tomorrow.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Memo From Mom
TO: School Administration
RE: First Grade = First Laundry Load
I propose you bring Home Economics back to school. And please start in First Grade. With just the boys. My reason? In the last week, I have washed 3 pairs of mud and grass-stained jeans, 1 brand new fuzzy fleece-lined hoodie decorated with splashes of lunchtime dirt, 1 pair of Converse that were once gray but are now green with hints of gray peeking through, and 1 pair of blue suede Vans with pieces of Earth wedged into the suede. This is all thanks to that all-important healthy part of the school day – recess. I don’t know what connection you have to the Tide Crime Family or The Stain Lifter That’s All Waste Management Company, but something’s up and I’m suspicious that this school of yours is a front. I think you have a landfill out near Newark Airport filled with filthy, ripped jeans.
I take great care in making sure Monkey Man looks nice for school. I iron his clothes. I blame it on my mother. She would not let my sister or me out of the house un-ironed. When I rebelled in college and went out all wrinkled and slovenly, she’d comment, “What’d ya have a fight with the iron?” I know. I was wild, out of control. Listen, woman, you can’t hold me back from experiencing life in all its crease-free craziness!
I not only iron Monkey Man’s clothes, but I make sure the clothes match. Then I look around at kids in school and most of them look like they slept in the hamper. I wonder why I put myself through the stress of shopping, and just plain trying. My little boy who I send to school in button-down “long-sleeve short-sleeve” shirts (as he calls them, those fake long sleeves under the short sleeves) and nice jeans, clean white socks and clean, well-maintained sneakers, is an absolute mess when he gets home. When I found out that he is getting this dirty at recess, my first thought was, “So you are sitting in school for almost 3 more hours after lunch time looking like THIS?” Why even bother combing his hair in the morning? Why bother getting dressed at all – just roll out of bed and keep those pj’s on. Hell, let’s not even waste time brushing teeth.
He comes home looking like the antithesis of my child because he loves to play football during recess. Translation: He and a bunch of boys throw a ball and tackle each other in the dirt while the adult supervision is off on the side of the field gossiping about what happened on Glee last night. I am a kind, smart mom and I do know that recess is important for his social development as well as his physical fitness. But, for the love of all mothers just trying to get ahead each night with the housework, teach these kids how to do the laundry.
RE: First Grade = First Laundry Load
I propose you bring Home Economics back to school. And please start in First Grade. With just the boys. My reason? In the last week, I have washed 3 pairs of mud and grass-stained jeans, 1 brand new fuzzy fleece-lined hoodie decorated with splashes of lunchtime dirt, 1 pair of Converse that were once gray but are now green with hints of gray peeking through, and 1 pair of blue suede Vans with pieces of Earth wedged into the suede. This is all thanks to that all-important healthy part of the school day – recess. I don’t know what connection you have to the Tide Crime Family or The Stain Lifter That’s All Waste Management Company, but something’s up and I’m suspicious that this school of yours is a front. I think you have a landfill out near Newark Airport filled with filthy, ripped jeans.
I take great care in making sure Monkey Man looks nice for school. I iron his clothes. I blame it on my mother. She would not let my sister or me out of the house un-ironed. When I rebelled in college and went out all wrinkled and slovenly, she’d comment, “What’d ya have a fight with the iron?” I know. I was wild, out of control. Listen, woman, you can’t hold me back from experiencing life in all its crease-free craziness!
I not only iron Monkey Man’s clothes, but I make sure the clothes match. Then I look around at kids in school and most of them look like they slept in the hamper. I wonder why I put myself through the stress of shopping, and just plain trying. My little boy who I send to school in button-down “long-sleeve short-sleeve” shirts (as he calls them, those fake long sleeves under the short sleeves) and nice jeans, clean white socks and clean, well-maintained sneakers, is an absolute mess when he gets home. When I found out that he is getting this dirty at recess, my first thought was, “So you are sitting in school for almost 3 more hours after lunch time looking like THIS?” Why even bother combing his hair in the morning? Why bother getting dressed at all – just roll out of bed and keep those pj’s on. Hell, let’s not even waste time brushing teeth.
He comes home looking like the antithesis of my child because he loves to play football during recess. Translation: He and a bunch of boys throw a ball and tackle each other in the dirt while the adult supervision is off on the side of the field gossiping about what happened on Glee last night. I am a kind, smart mom and I do know that recess is important for his social development as well as his physical fitness. But, for the love of all mothers just trying to get ahead each night with the housework, teach these kids how to do the laundry.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
October Observations
1. I have a mild obsession with men's novelty boxer shorts. Each time I pass the boxer short aisle in Target, I feel compelled to buy Hubby a pair of boxers to match the season. A look into his underwear drawer will reveal Snoopy heart boxers for Valentine's Day, decks of cards for Poker nights, shamrocks for St. Patty's Day, popsicles for the summer, dogs because we have a dog and I had no other reason than they were cute, and snowflakes for the God-awful season they call winter. I have my eye on a pair with bats for Halloween and I am sure that during one of my 12 trips to Target in the next 7 days, Hubby will be the proud owner.
2. Today, a gift from a friend fell and broke. I thought for a second how appropriate this event was in that it was symbolic of our friendship. Without going into details, I am sad that our friendship shattered. I consider myself to be a loyal friend, someone whom once I am your friend, I mean a real, true friend not just an acquaintance, I will always be your friend. I have several friends whom I have known for years, some going back to Kindergarten. Weeks and months go by when we don't talk, but we can pick right up where we left off without missing a beat. When I make new friends, I tread lightly, needing to develop genuine trust. But this friendship was different and when this gift broke, I simply felt like it was true to the friendship. It was nice, it was fragile - but then it fell apart.
3. I was so happy to rip September off of my desk calendar at work that I nearly peed myself. As a teacher, September is a loooong month. It is filled with getting kids back on track, reviewing rules, introducing procedures, and it's just a sucky reminder that summer is over. But when October 1st hit, I yelled, "WOO HOO!" Because, 1) It's 1 day closer to summer 2) Thoughts of my beach vacation are so far behind me that I'm no longer thinking, "Just a month ago I was playing mini golf with Monkey Man or laying by the pool or sleeping until 8:30 a.m. or having fun and enjoying the life that works sucks out of me." So, screw you September. October rocks!
4. In just 25 days, Hubby and I will get to enjoy all of the peanut-laden candy that Monkey Man cannot ingest. In just 25 days, I will be in a Reese's peanut butter cup and Snickers coma. Oh, peanut allergy, you are just not fair. To Monkey Man, anyway.
Happy October, everyone!
2. Today, a gift from a friend fell and broke. I thought for a second how appropriate this event was in that it was symbolic of our friendship. Without going into details, I am sad that our friendship shattered. I consider myself to be a loyal friend, someone whom once I am your friend, I mean a real, true friend not just an acquaintance, I will always be your friend. I have several friends whom I have known for years, some going back to Kindergarten. Weeks and months go by when we don't talk, but we can pick right up where we left off without missing a beat. When I make new friends, I tread lightly, needing to develop genuine trust. But this friendship was different and when this gift broke, I simply felt like it was true to the friendship. It was nice, it was fragile - but then it fell apart.
3. I was so happy to rip September off of my desk calendar at work that I nearly peed myself. As a teacher, September is a loooong month. It is filled with getting kids back on track, reviewing rules, introducing procedures, and it's just a sucky reminder that summer is over. But when October 1st hit, I yelled, "WOO HOO!" Because, 1) It's 1 day closer to summer 2) Thoughts of my beach vacation are so far behind me that I'm no longer thinking, "Just a month ago I was playing mini golf with Monkey Man or laying by the pool or sleeping until 8:30 a.m. or having fun and enjoying the life that works sucks out of me." So, screw you September. October rocks!
4. In just 25 days, Hubby and I will get to enjoy all of the peanut-laden candy that Monkey Man cannot ingest. In just 25 days, I will be in a Reese's peanut butter cup and Snickers coma. Oh, peanut allergy, you are just not fair. To Monkey Man, anyway.
Happy October, everyone!
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