Vintage Prosey Project: 2014 Prioritization — 1/9/12

Updating the blog here to pull old entries from the pros/e/yes archives…in their original order. This project is simply a unification of my personal blog (with a LOT of NSFW entries) and my professional blog.

Happy Hump Day: Prosey’s Potty Mouth

Good morning!

The past couple of mornings, I have slept through my daughter getting up, ready, and out the door for school. Really, not a big deal, come to it. She’s almost 15 years old, and has been getting herself up in the mornings since she was about 13 years old. Which is very nice for me (such a difference from my eldest, who still sleeps through his alarm clock). My daughter wakes up typically at about 6:00 a.m. during the week, gets dressed, gets her lunch ready (if she didn’t make it the night before, which she usually does), and comes downstairs. She starts the coffee and has a cup before I make my way downstairs. (Another plus, since that means I don’t have to wait to pour a cup of coffee.) But…the past couple of mornings, I’ve slept through her morning routine and missed her leaving for school.

With the holiday only having just ended, I discovered only just this morning that I hadn’t changed my secondary alarm. See, I have three alarms on my phone…one set for 6:30 a.m. (when I had to take Sis Chris to work…I really need to disable that alarm), one that is (usually) set for 7:15 a.m., and the weekend alarm, which is set for 8:15 a.m. Over the holiday, I changed the 7:15 a.m. alarm to 8:15 a.m….because, well, holiday…helloooo. I left the 6:30 a.m. alarm on over the holiday, since there were mornings that I needed to take Sis Chris to work, and neglected to disable it Sunday night (and somewhere in my sleeping mind, when the alarm goes off, I seem to know I don’t need to be up, so I turn it off). But the other thing I neglected to do Sunday night was reset my secondary alarm so that I can be up before my daughter leaves for school. This morning, when the 6:30 alarm went off, I half-woke, turned off (and disabled) the 6:30 alarm, and corrected the other alarm back an hour so that it’s set again to 7:15, giving myself a little bit more sleep.

I woke up before the alarm went off…by a good ten minutes…and came downstairs. My daughter had already eaten breakfast, had her daily luggage beside her ready to go, and was quietly watching Family Guy (I think that was what was on anyway). She had already cleared her breakfast dishes and her coffee mug. I gave her a good morning kiss, and she asked if I’d heard about the house fire in Conyers that happened in the middle of the night. I don’t know which of my many sarcastic faces was on display, but she started laughing, because she’d heard about it on the radio. I told her to let me pour a cup of coffee, then I’d see what I could see…since I don’t sleep with a radio on, and therefore, no…I hadn’t heard anything about a house fire in Conyers in the middle of the night. *smirking grin*

I really enjoy my morning chats with my daughter before she leaves for school. They are quiet, and often very thoughtful chats. And those morning times are among the few that she and I get one-on-one time together, outside of our periodic weekend mother-daughter dates. This morning, she wanted to talk about two different things — from her history class and from her science class. From history, she wanted to talk about the Holocaust…not the horrors of it, but its place in history, and the way it is discussed in class. From science, she was expressing that she’s glad that Darwin and evolutionary theory is the current topic in biology…which is a relief for her (because in middle school, evolution was avoided in favor of “intelligent design”…which she, being a young atheist, found to be ridiculous). She asked if I have copies of Mein Kampf (I do…somewhere) and any books about evolutionary biology (I do). She also asked if I had any other books that explain fascism in an easyish-to-understand way (I do), and of course, she would like to borrow them (she certainly may).

Then the topic shifted…before she left…to potty talk. As in, she shares a bathroom with her older brother and Sis Chris (basically her other older brother)…and gets tired of the toilet getting backed up — and even more tired of getting blamed for it. Which reminded me of a Hump Day topic I’ve been meaning to discuss…for the sake of men and women and potty game blame.

Understand, this is not a serious topic on the face of it…the conversations transpire with a lot of humor and good-natured sarcasm…but it’s one that I have not really addressed with answers that are clear to my husband — who tends to take the boys’ part when it comes to who more often backs up the shared upstairs toilet, and why, just because we females use more toilet paper (out of necessity, by the way) does not mean that we are necessarily responsible for toilet back up. And…lol…if you knew the history of my older son and his “constitutional issues,” you would know that he is just as frequently responsible for toilet back up as anyone in the house. But that is a topic that I am not going to go into in any detail whatsoever.

The topic is why women use more toilet paper…and it really is out of necessity. My husband jokingly (on the level) explains that he uses X-number of sheets for pee, and Y-number of sheets for poo. Okay, well, that’s nice and all, and I appreciate the explanation…buuuttttt…the only place males and females really have any toilet paper similarities is in the poo category, which again, I’m not even going to go into. How much toilet paper is used for that depends on which item on the notorious shit list happens to be in the pot. But for pee? Look, guys, most of you stand to pee and shake your junk off. IF you use a piece…a single sheet…of toilet paper to dab that last little drip off, well, that’s good for you.

For females…it’s just a tad bit different. We sit to pee…and…we aren’t built like Barbie, so to speak. In other words, there is an anatomical difference between our urethral opening and yours…and there is a really huge difference between what is between our urethral opening and our anus from you. Again, anatomically speaking. From the conversations that have transpired, it almost seems as though in every aspect of “down there” that can be discussed, from a male perspective, the only time you really consider what’s “down there” is when you’re trying to find your way into it…and in any other discussion, we may as well be built like Barbie. But such is certainly not the case…and when we sit down to use the toilet, the outcome is a bit different from your outcome also (and magnify that thought by a gajillion when we’re menstruating). There is more to actually clean up for us than there is for you…

…so of course we use more toilet paper. Duh.

That said, my husband is something of an exception to the general rule (from what I have seen and heard from others) when it comes to the chocolate factory. My husband is, admittedly, extremely conscientious about how much toilet paper he uses to clean his hind end…and he is (thankfully) both prudent with the toilet paper and thorough (don’t get me started on when I did the ex’s laundry…and when I did my older kids’ laundry…the subject of bacon stripes is not really ideal first thing in the morning). I will just say that by and large, you guys often overdo it with toilet paper and your asses…and often don’t finish the actual job, even while finishing the roll. I know this all-too-well.

So toilet blame games do not fly with me. Especially not in this house, where there are three men, two women, and a toddler. *sweet smile*

Alrighty, enough potty talk for one morning.

Happy Hump Day!


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