Gross Bathrooms

Mama is looking pregnant now!

Here’s one of the hidden secrets of parenthood: Gross bathrooms. Kind of like how no one told me I was going to bleed for a week after delivery. Funny, when the glossy magazines are going on about the “celebrity baby boom,” blood and filth in public restrooms seems to be missing from the “I love being a mom” PR spin.

I Hate When This Happens

I’m in a public bathroom with Vivien. It’s sort of nasty and I keep hissing at her, “Don’t touch anything!” Like, she’s a finger away from the plague instead of the same gross old germs we always come into contact with. But somehow it seems worse in a public bathroom and one that does not appear to be well maintained. Also I feel so vulnerable, hovering over the can while I also try to corral my child who could touch any object if given the chance. And then this happens.

There is no catch to the cheap one ply roll. I keep trying to find the end and my quads get a workout. Finally I claw at it like a nervous kitty. “Get me out of here!” I get a snippet of tissue, wash our hands and then command Vivien like the commender of sub. “Dive, dive, get out of here!”