Number 1 or Number 2?

As a child growing up, asking about your personal bathroom visit details was frowned upon, unless it was your mom and she was trying to gauge your health. We just didn’t talk about bathroom details!

Well, things have really changed over the years, A LOT! I saw this change first hand when I had my two kids and they did everything under the sun in those damn diapers and if you were lucky, it all stayed in the diaper. Ha! Fat ass chance!

I remember seeing my ex mother-in-law actually insert a finger into the leg of a diaper to assess the situation inside. Now, she had those fancy long nails and I’ll bet a dime to a dollar that she had to do some deep intensive cleaning up under that nail when she scooped out a bit of number 2. I about barfed in my own lap. Good Lord, who does that?

As my kids aged, each act was given a number and made their way past 2.

1 was poddy

2 was poo

3 was diarrhea

4 was vomit

5 was all the above, God help you!

Now, the other day I knew I was in trouble when my 17-year-old son ran in screaming, “I have to do a number 12!!!” What the hell?

Now, I am one of those people who must be in the bathroom with the door shut and everyone cleared out of the area so I can do my 1 and 2 or sometimes, if the IBS is acting up, number 3. I don’t want folks hearing the certain noises that present themselves as these rather normal events occur in the bathroom, ya know?

I remember being a little girl, I think this is where my utter privacy need began, we were heading out West in the good ‘ole station wagon with that fabulously tasteful simulated wood paneling. We had stopped at Stuckey’s for breakfast and I had to pee and so did my little sister so I was designated as her keeper. As she and I entered into the bathroom, the first thing that hit us was a stench that I believe has never existed on the planet until that moment. In addition, there was women apparently giving birth to her number 2 because you have never heard more moaning, grunting, and at times a bit of screaming. It was at that moment, my sister and I looked at each other and made the immediate decision that we suddenly didn’t need to be witness to this and we could surely hold it as we tore right back out the door.

So, number 1 and 2 took another turn when I was married to the ex. It became a time for a family gathering. I kid you not, I’d get that number 2 urge and it was is if I was the leader and I had three followers filing in behind me. Yes, I would be sitting on the white throne as a full-grown man and two children would sit on the tub and scattered out on the floor sometimes with a note pad and pencil to take notes and talk to me as if we were having tea in the kitchen and this was perfectly ok. No wonder this was the time of some bad constipation for me. Who the hell can poo when there is a meeting going on?

What ALWAYS cracks me up is when I’m working with some of the kids in my clinic and I will excuse myself to go to the bathroom and every single time I get asked this question, “Number 1 or number 2, Ms. Sharon?” I chuckle and answer of course because these kids mean business. Love my OT kids!

So, this morning, what prompted this blog, my husband was wrapped around me in the bed like a rubber band and I said, “Um, honey, can you unwind yourself from my person for I have to use the bathroom,” and without hesitation he mutters, “Number 1 or number 2?”

Love y’all!!♥