My sh*t smells like roses. Just ask my husband.
So many things have kept me from posting on my blog lately – the main one being that my in-laws were in town.
Hot Nerd’s parents have always been super wonderful to me, but we have never had any kind of family stay in our abode before. We’ve never had the room before now. So, with four adults and one child under one roof, I didn’t really get the opportunity to lock myself away for some private bloggy time.
And boy, could I have used it.
Hot Nerd still had to work full time, and he’s pursuing his Master’s degree at night, so most of the time it was just me and Hot In-Laws traipsing around town. Now, there are about a hundred different reasons why it’s insane having a parental-type figure around twenty four seven. Especially after you’ve become a parent yourself. I, however, am not going to go into any of those reasons.
I have taken away something much more important from their little visit, and it is this:
My shit doesn’t stink. Or, at least it doesn’t have to.
Allow me to paint a picture for you, because I oh so enjoy doing so.
It is day 3 of the Hot In-Law invasion, and a Saturday, so I am lucky enough to have Hot Nerd in the house. It’s mid-morning, and everyone is hopped up on coffee, with the exception of my son, who bounces off the walls naturally. Hot Nerd and his parents are talking over each other about something, VERY LOUDLY, and my kid is jumping like a kangaroo on the luxurious air mattress they’re sleeping on. I, at this point, begin to feel a very sharp, twisty pain in what I believe to be my lower intestines. I then decide it is of utmost importance to announce that I am “going to the potty”. Basically, it’s my way of saying, “Nobody need anything from me for a minute, and somebody watch the kid.”
Now, I don’t know if I ate something I shouldn’t have, or if stress is causing my insides to bubble, but something is wrong- terribly wrong. I’m not sure if I’ve got the sweats, or if the bathroom is still steamy from the three showers it endured earlier in the morning. Either way, I find it hard to breathe, and I am trying very hard to hold back the whimper that my stabby insides are causing.
I suddenly realize that I no longer hear anything out in the living room (our place is small, people). There is no jumping. There is no sound of grown ups talking over each other. I can feel the pressure building up in my body and I’m thinking “Why is the loudest family in the world so fucking quiet at this moment? My In Laws CANNOT hear what I’m about to do. For fuck’s sake, somebody make some noise.”
My heart starts beating unbelievably fast, and I reach over and turn the faucet on as high as it will go.
Thank God for good water pressure.
I whimper. I groan.
I have no control over what comes out of me.
It does not feel good. It does not sound good. It certainly does not look good.
It smells of death.
At this point, I want to hide in the bathroom forever, but the smell would most surely kill me. So I spray a little sweet smelling stuff, and open the useless, penitentiary-sized window.
I whisper to myself that I am human, and everybody’s shit stinks. I take a deep breath, almost yack from the odor, lift my chin, and walk my mortified self out of the bathroom.
I am greeted by an empty living room. There is absolutely no one around. No one is even in the house.
For some reason, they had all gone to the backyard to look at something, or sit in the sun, or plant a tree – I don’t really know. I am just about to thank my lucky stars when they all come marching back in.
Hot Father In-Law announces that it’s his turn to take a shower, and I panic knowing I’ve got to warn him. I can’t just let him walk into that smell. It’ll knock him to the floor. I clench my fists, muster up whatever bravery I can and say to the general air, “No one should go into the bathroom for a few minutes.” The fake smile on my face is ridiculous…
but Hot Father In-Law and Hot Mother In-Law are arguing over something and don’t hear my warning.
I silently beg Jesus not to make me say it again louder…
but Hot Nerd has heard me!
He walks toward the bathroom and stops short. I can tell the smell-wall has hit him. He turns to me with that look that someone gets when they suck on a lime and whispers:
“Do we have any matches?”
“No”, I whisper back.
We run to the junk drawer in desperation, only to be disappointed.
Hot Nerd quickly grabs a lighter and some birthday candles instead.
Just then I see Hot Father In-Law swing a towel over his shoulder and head for the bathroom.
Before I can scream “NOOOOOOOOO”, Hot Nerd intercepts him and says frantically, “I really need to get in there before you shower, Dad.”
Hot Nerd goes in and… I don’t know, twiddles his thumbs?
When after two minutes he still doesn’t come out, I start to realize what he’s doing.
He’s claiming my shit.
That my friends, is love.
So now the Hot In-Laws are gone, and we miss them already. As far as they know, my shit smells like roses. At least that’s what I’ve always led everyone to believe, anyway.
I see no reason for it to be otherwise.
I’ve also learned a very important thing about my husband. Sure, he leaves his dirty socks on the floor and it drives me nuts. Yes, he’s picky about having the stupid crease down the middle of his pants when I iron his clothes, he sucks at doing laundry, and he NEVER warns me when he farts…
but when it comes to the important things, like saving your wife from embarrassment in front of her in-laws…
He’ll pretend my shit is his any day.
Put that in your marriage vows, and you’re set.