Goldilocks And The Three Butts

I've been in my house for 12 years, which means all our toilets are starting to go. Tired of having to plunge malfunctioning bowls, my husband recently asked me if I could buy thinner toilet paper. Apparently all that cushiony softness we were paying extra for was clogging the loo and he wanted it to stop. It's bad enough my three kids each use ten squares to do the job of two.

Cut to a week later after I loaded us up with the cheap stuff, putting rolls of thinner toilet tissue in every bathroom. My husband comes into the kitchen with the plunger in hand and says, "Now this paper is too thin." Turns out, the stuff was so skimpy, my kids had to use 15 squares just to make up the difference.

"Can you buy something a little thicker, but not too thick?" he continued.

I rolled my eyes and smirked. "Really? This is my job? Finding exactly the right toilet paper?"

Then out of nowhere, my ten year-old, the Duke, got all Ward Cleaver on his old mom, yours truly.

DUKE:  Mom! You have to do it! We neeeeed thinner paper. Stop being so selfish!

Uhm, for reals? My unwillingness to fulfill their every whim, from ass kissing to butt wipes, translates to a mean and uncaring mother?

ME:  Duke, why don't YOU go find us the perfect toilet paper if it means that much to you?

DUKE:  Because I don't shop. That's YOUR job too.

So I gotta ask...who exactly put me in charge of finding what to wipe their asses with that's just right? In all my late night online shopping, did I unknowingly reply to a classified ad for a Toilet Paper Thickness Analyst? And what makes me qualified? The simple fact that I was born with breasts?

Now, full disclosure, back when I still held a staff job in advertising, I once got sent on a business trip to France ("poor you," you're thinking) to take a tour of a client's toilet paper plant (poor me, indeed. what a waste of a trip to Paris). We were shown everything from how they test the density of the paper and make sure it's appropriately flushable, to how they print those quilted designs.

Anyhoo, the point is, the kids have no way of knowing this since they are incapable of imagining I ever had a life before them. And even still, if someone would have told me then that this singular experience writing ads for bath tissue would one day translate into one of my job responsibilities as a wife and mom, I'd have said there was a better chance of David Beckham dumping Posh and begging me to run away with him.

What?! He loves soccer. I love soccer. He's buff. I'm sort of buff. Could happen.

This got me thinking about the other random tasks I never realized I would be uniquely qualified for that day at Seton Hall when they handed me my diploma.

So here they are in no particular order. . . a few more of the least gratifying jobs I've ever had the privilege of doing:

Job description: Accompany children into pediatrician's office bathroom and hold specimen cup "down there" while they go. Must be able to simultaneously cheerlead, wrangle private parts, sing "pee pee" songs, and switch on the fawcett until they get "that feeling." Having a steady hand is a plus.

Job description: Scrape plantars warts on child's feet carefully with Exacto knife to remove dead skin layers; apply $200 overpriced medication directly to wart with own uninfected finger then cover just so with duct tape per doctor's orders. Perform every day for at least three months, usually before you've had coffee or when you only have 5 minutes left to get dressed for a business meeting.

Job description: Scrub spaghetti bits, meatball chunks and gallons of tomato sauce out of bedroom, hallway, and stair carpeting for sick child old enough but not smart enough to puke in the toilet. Must be able to work nights, typically 20 minutes after you've already fallen asleep.

Job description: Hold child's used, booger-filled tissues in car while driving and dispose once you get where you're going so child doesn't have to do it himself because, "Ewww, Mom. That's gross."

Uhm, and me holding onto it instead isn't?"

I'm thinking of upgrading my LinkedIn profile to more accurately reflect the breadth of my skill set.

I know you're wondering how I got so lucky to take on such exotic roles? There was no interview, no drawing straws, no picking tasks out of a chore jar. Each job was just automatically handed  to me.

I guess it's true, what the Judge tells Danny the Caddy in Caddyshack (perhaps the best movie ever):

"Well, the world needs ditchdiggers too!"

What's the most ridiculous job YOU'RE stuck with at home? Tell me in the comments below.

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