Dear Family, You Need To Get Your Act Together In The Bathroom
I walked into the bathroom the other day, not because I had to go, but because there appeared to be white slime dripping down the window, and it startled me away from my vacuuming.
As I got closer, I noticed the slime was actually toothpaste. And that toothpaste was sprayed all over the bathroom — on the mirror, the window, the windowsill, the toilet.
How the hell did toothpaste end up on the toilet? Was someone multitasking? Forget it. I don’t even want to know what happens behind these doors when I’m not looking.
I turned to grab some toilet paper to wipe up the mess until my kids got home from school and I could tell them to do a proper scrubbing. But because I already knew there was toothpaste making its way down the window, there was no way I was going to be able to function properly for the rest of the day.
But guess what? The only toilet paper in sight was a dinky little square someone left draped over a bald toilet paper roll, probably because it’s too much work to get a fresh roll and change it.
I walked out of there, refusing to get the toilet paper out to clean up the toothpaste spit because then that’s one less thing they would have to do.
When they got home I was full of piss and vinegar, partly because of their laziness and also because there was actual piss on the toilet seat and pooled on the edge on the toilet and god knows where else.
My daughter’s razor was sitting on the bottom of the tub caked with hair, and who knows how long those stiff towels have been laying on the floor.
I’ve tried to explain in the nicest way possible (read: only moderate swearing involved) that the bathroom is a place we go to wash our hands, take a shower, moisturize, and really, to get clean. And as they could see, their sorry-ass excuse pit of a bathroom wasn’t fit to get anything clean.
“How can you feel good about going in there to shower or wash your face or even take a dump? How can you relax in that hell hole?”
Their blank stares told me they literally didn’t understand the question, and I was wasting my breath. My oldest walked in, looked around and said, “Mom, it’s not that bad. Did you have a bad day?”
“Yes, I had a bad day because I had to look at this disgusting-ness and I can’t fathom why any of you think this is acceptable!”
From the empty bottle of conditioner rolling around on the floor of the tub, to the fingernail clippings hanging out on the windowsill, to the soap scum mixed with toothpaste that had crusted over the faucet and drain, I needed a wash down after just looking in there.
I don’t expect the bathroom to sparkle. I realize skid marks are going to happen and every once in a while we may forget to pick up our towel. But the fuckery that was blossoming in the bathroom that day needed to be fixed.
And so I made my three kiddos get down and dirty. There was grout-scrubbing and shower curtain-washing and Q-tips were used to get into hard to reach places.
There is zero excuse to have a bathroom that looks like it housed ten drunk college students for a month.
Adults of the world feel the need to bash our head against the toothpaste stained mirror every time we have to explain to our kids that things like changing the toilet paper roll when it’s out, or why throwing away the clump of hair will actually make life more pleasant but apparently, it’s part of the job.