Yesterday evening after dinner Boden tells me he has to go potty. Okay, I strip him down, not because he likes to do his business in the buff, because he is going to take a bath afterward. He sits on the potty for about 15 minutes. My patience is decreasing with his lollygagging on the potty. I leave him half-naked in the bathroom while I go back to the kitchen and scarf down the rest of my dinner as the bath tub is filling.
Bad bad bad idea. It seems Boden has decided to do his business on the floor. Okay, that's great. Disinfect and get him into the tub. A little humorous event.
Clearly, I will not leave him alone unsheathed again, but that's not the only potty training that needs to occur in the household. Now that I'm pregnant, I'm frequenting the bathroom in the middle of the night. Men if you LOVE your wife, then don't leave the frickin' seat up to the toilet.
My eyesight is BAD, so much so that contacts do not correct it perfectly. I do well to feel my way around in the middle of the night. I have learned to change diapers without looking and other feats.
So, last night when I had to pee at o'dark thirty, I could not tell the toilet seat was up. My husband had been sleeping in the other room, because he had contracted the funk, so I wasn't concerned about falling in. Anger could not describe the way I felt. Getting up and yelling a curse word and slamming the seat down with my foot did not erase the gangrene that was sure to be growing on my butt. It isn't that we don't clean, but the whole grossness of viewing misses of the past and not knowing what was lurking.
I wanted to disinfect my butt and worried that the growing baby inside was going to be infected in some way. This wasn't a good way for me to fall back to sleep and I glared in the dark at my sleeping husband as I made my way back around the bed to my side.
Men, put the effing seat down. It is a courtesy that will make your wife happy and your life easier.