First World Problems … Tales of Sharing a Restroom With a Teenager

In an effort to avoid discussing something that actually matters and carries weight and importance (because I am not capable of having a reasonable conversation regarding how much I’m not okay with the whole student loan forgiveness thing … so I won’t go there now), let’s talk about a completely superficial and shallow annoyance with which I’m currently dealing. It is the absolute definition of first world problem. And if you’re not feeling it or don’t really have a sense of humor, I recommend you just stop reading right now and come back when I’m not on the precipice of completely going off about the actual, important issues facing our country and our world, and thus, able to discuss, like a mature grown up, real things that matter. For the moment, a little levity is needed.

We have 3.5 restrooms . . . bathrooms . . . water closets . . . whatever you want to call them, there’s a lot of them in our house. I love indoor plumbing. I don’t love anything that has anything to do with not having it. See number eight in Courtney’s Confessions Continued . . . The Final Installment . . . For Now . . . where I very kindly explain my abhorrence of camping. No apologies there. Anyhow, I digress. When we built our house, we decided to modify the plans so that every bedroom has its own bathroom, and then we also have a half bath for guests, so they don’t have to use my kids’ bathrooms because kids . . . especially boys . . . are gross.

Having said that, I’m fully aware of how extra it is that my kids do not have to share a bathroom. No need to tell me or write me or set me straight. I’m aware. My children, bless them, however, are not even slightly aware of this. They think they’re entitled to their own bathroom. College is going to be a rude and more than funny awakening for certain teenagers in this house. I told y’all first world problems up in here . . .

Back to the restroom situation. My son has been telling us for a while that his shower leaked when it was on. But only when it was on. And we kind of, sort of, didn’t really believe him. We thought he was just splashing water on the floor and blaming it on some sort of leak. Well, lo and behold, something is leaking when the water is turned on . . . thankfully, only when the water is on, but the kid wasn’t wrong. So we need to get it fixed, and the fix is probably a fairly easy one. However, we need the handyman we use to come help us (by “us” I mean Patrick . . . I don’t fix stuff . . . I’m more likely to be the one breaking stuff) because we (“we” and “us” . . . same thing) are likely going to have to cut into the wall, and “we” need to be sure it’s done right. But . . . there’s a lot of buts here . . . the handyman, jack of all trades, fixer of all things, has been working on a property we recently bought, and that is a more pressing job. Which means, I have been sharing a shower with my 14 year old son for the past three weeks . . . or one hundred years. Same difference.

Y’all, he’s kind of a slob. Am I allowed to say that? I mean he’s smart, cute, funny, a hard worker, disciplined in everything . . . except he doesn’t understand how to pick things up. You would think he would get it, considering his IQ is pretty dang high, but alas, I’d be lying if I told you the kid was a neat freak. Now when it’s contained to his own room and bathroom, as long as it isn’t straight up filthy, I let it go. It’s not the hill on which I plan on dying, but y’all he’s been using my bathroom and shower forever. FOREVER. Remember how Squints said it in The Sandlot? FOR-EV-VER. Same. There has been some improvement over the past few weeks. After I almost brained him (no worries . . . I’ve never actually “brained” one of my children . . . I’m not even sure what that would entail) for using my washcloth, not flushing the toilet, getting body wash everywhere, leaving dirty clothes and towels on the floor . . . he did start to show signs of improvement. But if we don’t get his shower fixed soon, well, I might lose my ever-loving mind. And we wouldn’t want that now would we?

Sometimes we just need to take a minute and breathe and worry about something truly important . . . like why we shouldn’t have to share a bathroom with our children (and I know … some of you do … you have all my empathy … all of it). Can I get an amen?

THE END

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