“Did you hear me? I said get in the shower already.” I shouted down the hall.
There is no way bath and bed time should be this challenging. We used to joke with the boys (although I think they thought we were serious) that it would be time for the three ‘B’s’. Bruce or I would casually stroll up to them and say something like: “Put your toys away it’s time for the three ‘B’s’.” It makes me chuckle inside just thinking about their reactions. Instinctively they’d stomp their feet, or spike their toy into the ground like it was a football and they just scored a touchdown (albeit without all the excitement) while simultaneously making the most annoyed face they could muster up before letting out the single most pathetic lower belly groan they could without actually breaking down and throwing a tantrum. On rare occasions they might throw in a few tears. I am not affected by tears, or cute little bottom lips that somehow manage to protrude off their faces like little shelves placed between their nose and chin. Hollywood has nothing on these kids. Nothing.
That had to be the fourth time I’d told Trey to get in the shower; at the least.
Trygg was already passed out in the top bunk, Trey’s bed, and would need relocating. That or I was going to be up all night worried sick he was going to fall out and hurt himself. Tyler was running between the family room, laundry room, and the bedrooms like a chicken with its head cut off. I was trying to get the family room picked up and organized (still hasn’t happened) and Bruce was hanging shelves in the laundry room. Since Tyler hit my 100% totally annoyed and ready to go insane button first, he was the lucky winner of an all expense paid trip down do whatever your crazy mother says to do and do it now exactly as she says to do it without saying a word or get your ass handed to you lane. I thought it was an awesome prize package.
Periodically I’d pop my head into Trey and Trygg’s room to check on the progress of ‘mission impossible,’ I mean, to check in on Trey’s progress towards cleaning up his room. I don’t let them go to bed unless all their toys are picked up and put away where they belong. When the kids are tired and cranky this is great fun, however; Trey was not tired and cranky on this occasion. Why it was so hard for him to just do it already is beyond me…but there I was getting more annoyed by the second.
When I’d finally had enough of his nonsense I told him to just forget it and get in the shower already. Circle back to earlier in this blog and here I stand vocalizing my frustrations at him for the fourth time.
“Listen here stinky kid, there is no way on God’s green earth you are going to bed without taking a shower first. So I suggest you just get in there and do it already.” I said as I walked up behind him. I picture that scene from “Big Daddy” every time the kids argue over taking a bath. The words ‘you don’t want to be known as the stinky kid at school do you?’ have crossed these lips.
By this time he’s at least naked, it’s a step in the right direction. Not a very big step though as all the lights are on and none of the curtains are pulled shut and all of our windows face someone else’s windows and since it was pitch black outside they could all see into our house as clearly as if they were physically standing here beside me looking at a very naked child.
Modesty somehow managed to skip our family.
“Oh come on Trey?! At least close your curtains!” I said. Why I was shocked is beyond me. I live with these kids and I know they are proud of what God gave them (especially Trey). I should have expected to find him like this.
Finally he’s in the bathroom. The fan is on, the water is running. We are making progress baby! I stick my head in the door to gently remind him to make sure the shower curtain liner is in the shower (I don’t get how he doesn’t grasp the importance of this step). I hung his towel over the towel bar so he could grab it when he was done without having to get out of the shower and then told him I was leaving the door propped open in case he needed something.
Tyler and I were back in the family room lining the shelves in the closet with paper when I thought I heard Trygg. We paused for a moment to listen and when we didn’t hear anything we started right back up. Because of the humidity here we have to line the shelves with paper. Otherwise whatever is on the shelf will stick and pull the paint up when you pick it up, especially if it is going to sit for an extended period of time.
Suddenly Trygg comes bolting into the room (yeah Trygg, the one that was asleep…) screaming so excitedly that I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. Instinctively I looked at Tyler for a translation…like he was going to understand gibberish any better than I was?! Trygg repeated himself. This time I was able to make out the words ‘Trey’ and ‘in the shower.’ Tyler and I looked at each other with the same confused, yet concerned look on our faces.
As I rounded the corner towards the bathroom I could hear that the shower was still running. So why was I looking at a soaking wet, shivering, naked, panic-stricken, crying, white as a ghost, fear filled child in the middle of the carpeted hall (curtains still open by the way)?
“Trey!?!” I said reaching around the corner for his towel. “What happened?! Are you okay?!”
Through his gasps I was able to understand all I needed to hear….I would have reacted the same exact way (okay, maybe louder). Keep in mind that he’d been in the shower for over five minutes by this point.
It took that damn cockroach five freakin’ minutes to leap off the shower curtain and surprise Trey! Was it waiting for him to pass the soap?!
Needless to say, as soon as Trey realized he was showering with a cockroach he bolted out of that shower like his life depended on it. A few girlie screams for Bruce later and the very clean cockroach managed to get a little thinner before it found its way into the toilet, compliments of the bottom of Bruce’s shoe.
After I regained my composure (I find this whole situation to be hysterical and no, I did not laugh in Trey’s face. I was quite sympathetic) I was able to reassure Trey that there were no more cockroaches in the shower. Secretly I was saying a quick prayer that there were in fact no more cockroaches in the shower.
Fast forward almost twenty-four hours and queue Tyler.
The toilet in the boy’s bathroom needs a new chain and the temporary fix quit working. As a result, the toilet doesn’t flush unless you put your hand in the tank and physically lift the flap. Bruce picked up what we need to fix it and just hasn’t installed it yet. The boys had been using our bathroom all morning instead; however, at this point in time Bruce was in our room on a phone call when Tyler had to go and he had to go now.
As he’s freaking out and carefully pacing up and down the hall he’s complaining about the toilet situation. I can clearly see he needs to go so I said “why not just use your toilet and when you are done just put your hand in the tank and flush it. It’s clean water in the tank.”
He must have had to really go in a bad way because when he lifted the lid and looked into the toilet bowl just prior to sitting down do you know what he saw floating in there? Yep, that cockroach from the night before….Bruce never flushed the toilet!
All I heard was “Oh..NO WAY! Mom?! I am not going in here, not with that. What if it comes back to life and bites me in the butt?! Mom?! Oh.” I checked it out and reassured him that there was no way it was going to come back to life unless he had some sort of magic poop. And if he had magic poop I needed to know what he was eating.
It was pretty clear he needed to go about as badly as he didn’t want that cockroach in the toilet swimming around beneath him. “Would you rather poop on it or shower with it?” I asked him.
The cockroach won.
Although Tyler did flush him after a failed attempt at sinking him first.
*The three B’s are: bath, beating, and bed.