Yes, I am traumatized. I’ve got enough issues – and now my son decides to join the party and give me a few more for good measure. Yes, this post will be TMI. You’ve been warned, act accordingly.
Personal space has never really been a concept in my household. Growing up, my mother, sister and I developed the (now questionable) habit of getting home from work/school/training and stripping down to whatever comfort meant at that time. Unexpected visitors were (and still are) a real pain, since it usually meant having to put on a shirt/pants/both for some semblance of decency. Not much has changed, but I do find myself keeping the “comfort” level at “if the place was on fire I would have no issues running outside” levels. Mostly because I’ve got an impressionable little boy in the house now.
In true little kid style however, personal space is a completely foreign concept. His less than acceptable habit of ‘knock and push’ drives me up the wall. You know, that method of getting through a closed door where one knocks and simply enters – forget waiting for a response. Yes, he is overly proficient at this form of entering a room. Especially the bathroom. I long for the day when he is sufficiently self conscious to close a bathroom door, to not open a closed bathroom door, or better yet, to not announce to the neighbourhood that he’s “doing a stinky”.
Back to my issues. I’ve had some weight issues in life. My freshman 15 was more like a freshman – grad student 80 (picture going from a size 6 to an 18 – now you’ve got it). Yeah, not so fun times. Interestingly enough, once I hit a D cup along that ride, my boobs have never looked back. Fortunately I’m back at a size 8 and my pre-baby bra size – no, we won’t go through those letter changes. Anyway, they have a mind of their own and pretty much do whatever they feel like. I rely on good bras and sheer willpower to keep them under control. So yes, I would say I’m self conscious in this regard. So into my issue zone now enters the small child.
This morning, the usual routine… I’m in the shower in the process of getting ready for work, while he and our nanny are arguing over which Lightning McQueen underwear he’s going to wear to school today. I love the mornings that she is there, mostly because I can drink my coffee while it’s still hot and get out the door on time, not having to choose one. Anyway, I’m out of the shower and starting to get dressed when BOOM and the bathroom door flies open. After the proclamations of how handsome he is and that he is all dressed for school, he proceeds to inform me that I’m not wearing any clothes – while completely ignoring my requests to get out of the damn bathroom.
Now it gets interesting.
He proceeds to poke his finger into the panty liner I’m trying to put on. Yes. I too am horrified. “Mummy what does that do?”
I have no answer for this child.
I tell him when he’s older we will get back to that question. WTF am I supposed to say??? *screams*
Then having gotten past this, I’m trying to put on my bra and he decides he needs to help. *more screaming* I’m pleading with him to get out of the bathroom and tell him thanks but I’ve got this.
His response is to step in front of me and stare at my boobs while I hook the back of my bra. Then he points.
“Mummy, they’re not even. I think your shirt is squeezing you.”
*wishes for earth to open and swallow me at this very moment*
To make matters worse, I step out of the bathroom to see my nanny on the floor, tears running down her face, almost choking trying to hold in the laughter. She was looking for him to brush his hair, and was listening to the whole conversation outside the door. I’m pretty sure she may still be laughing, right now.
And just for the record, when J was about 2 he locked himself inside this very bathroom and we had to break the lock out of the door. Still haven’t fixed it yet. So the door can be closed but not locked.
No, I’m not using the other bathroom – there’s no hot water in there.
Yes, I probably should fix the door.
My kid traumatizes me.