Instructions Included

I remember the first time my water broke and I headed to the hospital to welcome my baby girl into the world. I had looked forward to this moment with unwavering anticipation for nine months and here I was checking in to the hospital. If only I had known.... The pain was expected. Other mothers love to tell horror stories of their personal endurance of pain and perseverance during child birth. That is why God made drugs. But no mother shares the part about losing all dignity. No man has ever sat on a toilet for an hour crying and praying and calling for nurse's assistance just to pee. It just won't come out. Everything else from your insides falls out freely, but not the elusive urine. Hey, moms and grandmas, how about preparing us for that? Oh, and hemorrhoids, those are sexy. Now I know all of you men get them too- Just add fiber to your diet. Passing a two inch turd might seem intense and somewhat of a feat; Try passing a ten inch head, and let's not forget the shoulders.  If I was given a manual upon discharge I think it would have been my last visit to the third floor of the hospital. Now, of course, I went through all of the usual sleepless nights, projectile vomiting, diaper defying diarrhea, and the torture of teething- yet I remained clueless. I can only assume this is how we women are designed as to continue with procreation. As a new mom we are so exhausted because of the present it is impossible to consider the past or the future. I told myself, "No, Kerri, stop at one." But my great mother hen instincts took over and I got the "feeling"... I did this two additional times. So here I am nearly ten years after that first hospital admittance wondering what the hell I was thinking. As we all tell ourselves at least once an hour, I love my kids. A crap ton. I really do. But sometimes I don't like kids. They are small, smelly, needy, and that whining thing they do....well, it's like nails on a chalkboard. They refuse to get dressed alone, they can't find ANYthing-really, and they eat all of the time; just never what I cook. What is so scary about a casserole, seriously?? Tucking them in at night is like navigating the Appalachian Trail in the dead of Winter- you are lucky to come out alive. And getting somewhere on time? Doesn't happen. Ever.

 Anyway, all of this is to a point, I swear. For a few days, recently, I could smell something bad in our hall. I have a nose like a blood hound. I inherited it from my mother. I can smell everything. Bad or good. But I couldn't seem to find the source of this particular stench. The toilets were clean, the rugs and carpet were dry and also clean. So I simply adapted. For a minute. Then I decided to do some investigating. Since I lost my dignity in the hospital bathroom I had no problem with crawling around sniffing every surface possible. I was desperate. Ah-HA! I narrowed it down to the kid's bathroom-big surprise, I know. As I soon discovered it was the trashcan. I empty it regularly so I couldn't imagine why it would continue to stink? Oh....Upon further inspection I began to understand. Now why would someone put their dirty toilet paper in the trash instead of flushing it? At this point I knew who the culprit was I just couldn't imagine why. As a mother of a child with mild OCD I have come to expect oddities in daily life, but this was new. We had already accepted that it is necessary to use an entire roll per wipe as to not touch said stinky stuff. So I asked.... He replied, "If I try to flush all of that toilet paper it clogs the toilet and I don't want the water to come out of the toilet. That would be sooo bad."

 Touche'....