Two and a half baths
Which half would you like?
It's one of those little American oddities, a few words that are completely incomprehensible.
You can read it on a page, you can say it out loud, the net effect is the same. What on earth are they on about now? But that was in the good old days when I was a fresh faced immigrant. Years have now passed and I am far wiser. Non-Americans will be pleased to learn that Americans do not have diddy little baths. This is America, the land of big, bigger and the bestest.
Many moons ago in England, I lived with my family in a tall Victorian terraced house. Tacked on the back of the house as an after thought no doubt, was the bathroom. The bathroom had a bathtub, a toilet and a hand basin, but not very much else. It did have a deadbolt and a lock with a rusty old key the size of my small hand, but you needed the strength of a rugby player to shut the door, let alone lock it. All five of us were good sharers and privacy was non existent.
If we were really desperate, there was always the option of the old lean to toilet in the back yard next to the air raid shelter.
This original toilet was there before the bathroom was tacked on.
It was a place only for the brave.
I am, and always have been, a cowardy custard.
Hence I have little sympathy with the current generation of children in my care when it comes to foibles.
When it comes to foibles, which it usually does, their father has one, a foible that is to say. Every morning he shaves in the bathroom next to the kitchen. The bathroom has no bath and is the same size as a crampt cupboard. Standing room only. As he froths and shaves, rivulets of water run down his hands and forearms to collect on his elbows and then drip onto the linoleum floor. Two little puddles of dribbles, every day. This is no great hardship. What is great hardship, for me at least, are the blood curdling screams from my son, every day, when he decides to use the bathroom and finds his path blocked by his dribbling father.
The bulk that blocks his way isn't the hardship. The hardships are the two puddles. It would be easy to step over the two puddles located closest to the sink, especially if you only have child sized 13 feet and are on your tippy toes, or easy for some people. Other people pogo on the spot and scream, loudly, every day.
Many people, would learn that if you encounter the same problem every day, it might be a good idea to find an alternative solution, preferably a quieter one. Other people need help finding solutions. It is hard to find a solution when you can't hear. Generally speaking, it is hard to hear if you are screaming your lungs out.
All too often, I find myself just looking at him. I have to remind myself that he has an 'on' switch and an 'off' switch but no dimmer function, a period when he could think and work out an alternative. It's an all or nothing approach to life. The absurd can sometimes seem ironic. It is quite sobering for me to realize that this is not a child having a hissy fit or a meltdown, but someone struggling with a gargantuan obstacle, a puddle that might just as well be Niagara Falls. It's tempting to giggle, a nasty habit that I seem to have acquired over the years.
Instead, I wait a moment to see if the frenzy is spiraling up or down. If it's on the up and time is precious, I have no option but to scoop him up and cart him off to the loathed toilet down the hall. If it's on the down, then we have the opportunity to repeat the sequence, to find an acceptable alternative, every day.
Maybe one day, he'll step over this hurdle all by himself. Just as with so many of the other foibles. It won't disappear but he will find other ways of coping all by himself. Maybe soon.
February 19th, 2008 at 1:20 am
…if you encounter the same problem every day, it might be a good idea to find an alternative solution…
That – for me – is the core of (my daughter’s)autism. I can’t believe how surprised my daugther looks when she’s confronted with the same situation again, not having learned a lesson the previous time. Combined with her unwillingness to accept advice, this is a recipe for irritation and frustration on all sides. Lord have mercy on mothers …
February 19th, 2008 at 2:56 am
“All too often, I find myself just looking at him. I have to remind myself that he has an ‘on’ switch and an ‘off’ switch but no dimmer function, a period when he could think and work out an alternative. It’s an all or nothing approach to life. The absurd can sometimes seem ironic. It is quite sobering for me to realize that this is not a child having a hissy fit or a meltdown, but someone struggling with a gargantuan obstacle, a puddle that might just as well be Niagara Falls.”
I think I should print this out and hang it somewhere very prominent as a reminder…
Re the puddles, perhaps putting a towel down underneath to catch the drips might help?
February 19th, 2008 at 3:09 am
Yes that stood out for me to ‘ someone struggling with a gargantuan obstacle’.
A beautifuly written post.
February 19th, 2008 at 3:30 am
Half a bathroom. It is an odd thing isn’t?!?! Problem solving is tough for most growing minds so I can only imagine this being a doozer.
February 19th, 2008 at 4:43 am
*has long since decided that once one moves to Indiana, one instantly forgets how to drive and therefore, in this situation, “what are THEY on about now” is a bit funny since YOU are…they (they as in an American, not as in a Hoosier)*
February 19th, 2008 at 5:18 am
I would beat the father. This is probably why I have to remain single.
Jailtime.
February 19th, 2008 at 5:51 am
Ugh. We had that problem in our old house. There are few of us (fmaily of four) and I grew up with six siblings and various foster children in the house. And one bathroom. One full bathroom. That’s it! In a three bedroom house. I swear, we were stacked floor to ceiling.
Our current home has two and a half baths (sorry, I’m Merikun after all). No matter, he still dances around and screams if someone is in there. Then I remind him that we have THREE TOILETS and he could use another. Oops. Too late. Puddle on the floor.
This is one phase that I pray goes by quickly.
February 19th, 2008 at 6:00 am
I would make my husband shave elsewhere.
February 19th, 2008 at 6:32 am
Ahhhh… the things we put up with for love!:) We have 1 3/4 baths…what do you make of that?
February 19th, 2008 at 7:03 am
An alternative solution: Maybe Dad could shave down the hall so that there would be mo more puddles in the kitchen and no more screaming…
February 19th, 2008 at 7:05 am
just so ya know there are american homes with eensy weensy bathrooms. i’ve lived in more than one. but oh, a lovely clawfooted tub…..eventhough my old bathroom was small it had such a lovely clawfooted tub for soaking in…i do so miss it.
February 19th, 2008 at 7:06 am
My house technically has two full baths and two half baths. Does that mean I have 3 baths?
February 19th, 2008 at 7:15 am
i shave in the shower, my stubble is never seen
February 19th, 2008 at 7:26 am
We only have one bathroom but that’s a story for another day. I imagine I would keep trying to help him deal with the situation but my mind is blank as to ideas right now. Perhaps a warning that dad shaves in there and there are puddles on the floor?
We have shower head issues over here. He thinks it’s a big eye watching him and it’s definately scary!
February 19th, 2008 at 7:42 am
Love the on/off/dimmer switch analogy. So accurate…
February 19th, 2008 at 8:18 am
I always admire your perspective.
You’re a great mom.
Love,
Suzy
February 19th, 2008 at 9:17 am
oh, and don’t forget here in England, alot of bathrooms don’t even have showers attached!
February 19th, 2008 at 12:47 pm
Interesting point of view.
Mike
http://somethingaboutparenting.typepad.com/
February 19th, 2008 at 12:52 pm
Love the on/off/dimmer analogy, too! Um, another possible solution would be an electric shaver for Mr. Puddles! Um, but he shouldn’t stand in a puddle while using it…
February 19th, 2008 at 1:00 pm
You’ve probably already tried this, but what about an absorbent rug where Dad shaves, to absorb the puddles?
Love the dimmer switch analogy!
February 19th, 2008 at 1:06 pm
But lino is so easy to wipe. Our bath is huge and we live in England!!
Crystal xx
February 19th, 2008 at 1:49 pm
I love your turns of phrase Maddy. My own shaving style is pretty similar. I have my other half berating me for not wiping up the debris afterwards.
I lived in a student house which had an outside toilet. Not fun at all but we beat the rent down to just £2 a week each (in 1984)so it was worth the discomfort!
February 19th, 2008 at 2:36 pm
The dimmer switch analogy is brilliant.
This has nothing to do with this but when I first got married I wanted a claw footed tub so I made Victor buy me one and I put it in the dining room. It wasn’t actually connected to anything but it was a great place to cuddle up with the cats and read.
It was awesome.
February 19th, 2008 at 3:48 pm
Who knew shaving dribbles could be the perfect metaphor for all life’s obstacles?
February 19th, 2008 at 4:38 pm
I love that you’re able to catch yourself laughing when maybe it’s not so appropriate. That speaks volumes about you.
February 19th, 2008 at 4:38 pm
What if there was a bath mat on the floor in front of the sink to catch all the dribbles?
Of course stepping on a damp carpet might be upsetting too.
February 19th, 2008 at 6:44 pm
Oh…if you like the 1 3/4 bath… They also call this a ‘3 + 1′ bedroom house…not a *4* bedroom mind you, a ‘3 + 1′…sheesh.
February 19th, 2008 at 6:53 pm
Whenever I read what you write – I am amazed at how well you interpret and then describe all the actions of your children. It’s not just being articulate, which you obviously are. It’s just way incredible to me how you not only understand it but also tell it with humor. Wonderful!
February 19th, 2008 at 6:55 pm
That’s terrible for him. That would bother me too. Actually it wouldn’t bother so much as make me very angry.
Picture a cartoon woman with bulging eyes and hair standing on end.
You’re a very nice wife, Maddy!
chrisd w/ 2 3/4 bath (2 full bathrooms and a bathroom w/a shower! We’re so lucky!)
February 19th, 2008 at 8:19 pm
I have two full baths
Two hot showers at the same time don’t work