Potty Training 101
I am showing you this lovely flower because I simply can not nor would not show a picture of what this post is about. Now that I have your attention.
You know, it is a good thing I have these kids of mine, because I might run out of things to write about if it was just me and Bob. I mean really, alone we are just not that interesting. But throw in some teenagers – and you just never know. Take tonight for instance.
First thing this morning I go into the garage and there is a fine white dusting on every surface. Kind of like fairy dust – without the fairies – so it was just plain dust. Everything was white. It was like chalk dust. I went over to the furnace and looked around. I don’t know what I expected to see but I poked none the less. I did see a number for the service company so I called them. I told them something was wrong with my heater and it was spraying a fine powdery dust on everything. they came right out – nope – heater was just fine. “And quite frankly mam- I been in the heatin business for 25 years and I ain’t never seen anything like this come out of heater” said the nice and experienced man, apparently more experienced in the ways of the worlk than I am cause what he said next was prophetic. “You got teenagers cause you might want to talk to them – looks like the work of a smoke bomb. “I do have teenagers as a matter of fact and I will talk to them – after I beat a confession out of them.” It is only 10am and I have to wait till 3pm when they get out of school – oh the agony of waiting. Finally 3:01pm, I call Becca on her cell and tell her my story. She knows nothing, can’t imagine what it could be. And then I tell her how the heater man took a sample of the powdery substance and for $250.00 he will have it analyzed for me. “Now” I say “is there something you want to tell me cause if it turns out to be something you did – you are paying the $250.00. ” “OK, fine” she says indignantly. I was hoping for remorse or perhaps guilt but instead I got indignation. “So we exploded a few smoke bombs, we’re kids, that’s what kids do, don’t make a big deal out of it, it is just some dust.” Some dust? Like some dust everywhere over everything in the entire garage!! That is like saying there is some sand at the beach. You get in there and clean that whole garage from top to bottom of the “some little dust” before I get home tonight or you lose your car for one week. She says fine and then slams down the phone. Remind me now why I had kids.
Now you might think you are done as I thought I was done but wait – there’s more.
I go into the garage to inspect the detonator’s clean up job and it occurs to me that perhaps I should check the loft apartment over the garage. If in fact the dust got into the heating system it is probably over everything up there too. I dread going up cause I really don’t want another confrontation and argument with a surly teenager. I am tired. But wait, not too tired that my nose doesn’t detect something smelly. Really smelly. No, really, really smelly. I go into the bathroom and I remember that I had turned off the water to the toilet a few weeks back. No one really goes up there much and it is winter so I just shut off the water. I now turn on the water valve and let the tank fill up. I open the toilet seat - clean water in the bowl, but the room is really stinking to high heavens. I give it a flush. Nothing. No flush. No whoosh. No running water. It feel like the handle isn’t working. So I lift off the top of the tank and ” oh my god – the stench” the water is all brown and disgusting and it smells like – well it smells just like shit to be honest. Not kind of, sort of, maybe like shit – but actually just like shit. I look in. No chain attached to handle! A lot of things go through my head at this point. Does standing water go brown like that? Can the stink of a toilet accumulate and stink up the tank. Was the tank always brown? Can poop flush up into the tank? And finally the most important question of all. How do I get the chain, that I can’t see in all this thick brown water, and pull it up to make the toilet flush. I take off my coat, I pull up my sleeves, I disconnect my brain from my hand, ( a little trick that moms do when a gross and disgusting task looms in front of them) I plunge my hand in. I have to fish around a little till I feel the chain, which is on the bottom of the tank and I pull it up. Water goes down, all the way down. And there it is. All alone. Sitting in the bottom of the tank in the corner. A big giant brown poop. So apparently, poop can flush up or so it would seem. My hand is still dripping and now I get sweaty and grossed out. My mind has just reconnected to my hand and I am going to throw up. I wash my hand 25 times, not an OCD hand washing thing, but a someone else’s poop on is on my hand, hand -washing thing. I dry my hand off. I wash it again. I call Bob. You see, although the water has gone down, the poop remains stoic in it’s corner of the tank. And although new water is going in – the poop still remains in the corner. And of course the water is turning brown again. My work is done here and I have to call in the big guns. Bob comes up, he takes one look and says “why is the tank water brown and where is the chain?” I point ”in there – somewhere – you have to fish around for it but stay away from the right corner. “He calls Becca, it is one of those ” Becca- get up here right now” kind of calls. Remember when your dad did those calls?
Once gain, Becca has no clue. How would she know how the poop got in the tank.
Standard teenager answer. ” Why are you asking me, you always ask me when something is wrong, you always think I did it, you are always blaming me, you never trust me, you always accuse me of everything all the time! ” Yes, my dear – you are absolutely correct on all points and there is a reason for this.” I said “HMMMMM Let’s think what it might be – oh yeah I remember now – because you ARE the one always doing these things. Now let’s get back to how this poop got into the tank.”
Standard line of teenage questioning: Who was up here? What were you doing? When were you up here and finally – if you don’t tell me the truth and I have to find it out myself- the first thing that goes is the car. The car thing is the magic can open for the can of worms that you really don’t want to open – but as a parent, you must always open the can, no matter what. There are other cans you don’t want to open – see below.
So slowly Becca remembers that a few weeks back when her friends Lizzie and Taylor were sleeping over, they all went to bed around 11pm ( yes I hope her parents read this – parents like sharing the can of worms). Then, after we were asleep - they snuck up to the loft apartment where they were met by some boys they knew. Becca is such a good little planner isn’t she? They had fun and who knows what all it is they did. This a not the can of worms you want to open – this is a barrel of nuclear waste and so we never ask what they actually do when they are alone. We really don’t want to know this. Please - teengagers of the world – make it so we never have to ask what it is you were doing up there alone. Have movies, popcorn or books so we can suffer under the delusion that it was all above board.
So she starts to tell her story about boys and girls alone, together, late at night, small one room apartment, tv, leather chairs, sofa and one bathroom. Get to the part about the poop Rebecca! “I don’t know about the poop , but one guy was in the bathroom for a long time, maybe he did it.” she said. So I am trying to visualize this. How did the poop get in the tank? The toilet is between a wall and the sink, and plus the tank opening is pretty high so I am guessing he didn’t poop directly into the tank itself. I mean - that is not only sick but really hard to do considering the layout of my bathroom. Then I remember about the water being turned off and so as I rack my brain this scenario is the best I can offer and the most likely version of how it all went down. Boy goes to bathroom. Boy has to make a poop. Boy flushes toilet. He zips up and is ready to leave and takes one last look into the bowl. We all like to take that one last look at our poop as it makes it swirly way to down the shoot. But wait – the poop is still there. Stuck on the side of the toilet – it didn’t flush down. A little water went down but the poop stayed. He flushes again. This time no water comes into the bowl. This poop isn’t moving. He jiggles the handle repeatedly. He jigggles it really hard. The chain comes off handle. The boy is starting to sweat right about now. However, the boy is smart enough to open tank and look into to see if he can fix the handle but then notices that there is no water filling up in the tank. The boy is really starting to get upset. The boy is not smart enough to look below and turn on water valve. The boy panics. He can not leave his poop in the toilet bowl just sitting there. One of the kids in the next room may come in to use the bathroom and they will not only find it sitting there, they will know it was him. He is out of his mind right about now. He saying really, really fast “oh my god oh my god oh my god I have to rid of this poop”. He looks to the window, maybe he can open it and chuck it out there – oh but they have to leave that way and they will pass under the window and step into the poop. Back to the “oh my god” mantra and then bingo! A brilliant plan pops in to his head. He does what he has to do, the boy reaches into the bowl, picks up his own poop and the toilet paper attched to it and deposits it into the now empty tank. Genius! Freakin Genius! he is saying to himself. The boy puts the top back on tank. The boy washes his hands, I hope thoroughly. And he sails out of there thinking – who will ever know?
Let this be a lesson: Someone always knows. You may never know they know – but that doesn’t mean they don’t know. And they may not know right away – but sooner or later – someone always knows.
Weeks pass by and now it’s December 10 and the mom finds the poop. Now, everyone knows. We don’t know who the boy is but Becca does and I don’t think he will be coming around here anymore. And I am glad, cause I am just too old for this kind of shit! Really!!
Now go back and look at that pretty water lily just floating there in the water. Aren’t you glad that I showed you that picture!
Love ya,
Faux Farm Girl
Annie