No, this is not a post about eating too many spicy peppers on pizza, or too much spicy curry paired with too many glasses of red wine. Nor is it in any way related to "onion bum," which is a disgusting expression a friend of one of my family members came up with, which refers to the result of eating too much spicy food. This is about kids, and how they suck at wiping themselves.
Because, let's face it: kids stink at wiping their own bums. First of all, their arms aren't even long enough until--when?--they're six??? This is a bit of a problem, when I fear all the time that my junior kindergarten girl will head off to school and need to do a "number two" while she's there. I worry that a) she'll do a typically terrible job and return to her class activities stinkier than before, and b) the kindergarten teacher will have the office call me to come get my smelly child.
Hey, I was part of the skidmark club. We all were as kids. Why? Because we sucked at wiping our bums, AND, our mothers were too burnt out to move back in time from that marvelous milestone called "wipe YOUR OWN ass" to check up on us every time. Let that be the MOTHER MOTTO: "ALWAYS MOVE FORWARD, NEVER BACKWARD."
When I was four, and there was no such thing as junior kindergarten yet, I remember making a conscious decision to not wear underpants any longer. I had decided that they served no purpose, so why bother? So, I got dressed in my thin, tight little pale blue polyester shorts one morning, and headed off to the grocery store with my mummy. My mother was mortified to discover the brown spot on the back of my shorts. She may have just discovered this as we were stepping out of the car in my grandma's driveway for a visit after shopping. And Polish Grandma? She would NOT LET IT DROP:
Grandma: "what she gotteh on her shorts?" (no, don't get offended at my phonetic-ed Polish, as Grandma used to speak it, I'm not making fun of her, I remember her fondly--SNIFF)
Mom: "Oh! Just some dirt or something..."
Grandma: "Look! She gotteh something brown on it"
Mom: "Ha ha, yeah, I think she sat in some melted chocolate in the back seat.."
It went on from there. Did my mom cover for me, to spare me more embarrassment than I already felt, or did she do it to spare herself? One will never know.
So, both my kids suck a little bit at this job. PLUS, they also at times enjoy using nearly an entire roll of toilet paper per bathroom cleanup session. And that right there is ANOTHER REASON to use ENVIRONMENTALLY FRIENDLY TOILET PAPER people: my pipes have never plugged when they clog up the works with the "green" toilet paper--unlike the name-brand stuff.
The problem with Ella is that she's a girl, and when any poop migrates to the hoo-ha, there are problems, ie; multiple incidences of mild bladder infections, and/or irritated lady bits.
The other day, I was outside trying to pull out some dead flowers/tidy up the yard, etc. I stepped inside to find Ella SCREAMING HER HEAD OFF upstairs, and The Man in a mild panic, not knowing how to solve the problem.
What was the problem? FIRE BUM. Or, FIRE VAGINA--take your pick. Ella came up with both terms as a way to explain how it felt when she peed. So, I did what I've done before: marched down to the pantry to get the BAKING SODA, and ordered The Man to go to the drug store to get some CRANBERRY JUICE.
I shook some baking soda into a bath, and washed her with it and VOILA--no more FIRE BUM. Remember this for future reference, girls. As I was drying my girly off, she expressed her gratitude.
Ella: "Wow, mom, that stuff really worked! Thanks for buying it."
Me: "Yeah--great for baking cookies, and great for vaginas!"
Ella: "I hate your jokes."