Dads, toilets; effects of.
NOTE: apologies for the inevitably rather personal toilety nature of this. If you don't like poo, skip it.
Something Salvadore was saying made me think about my childhood and perhaps some reason why I used to be a bit weird.
The fact is this: my father, bless him, does not admit to going to the toilet. At all. He will not talk about it to anyone other than my mother. And if he is on the toilet, he will pretend he isn't.
I lost count of the number of times I would wander the house as a small child calling "Dad! Dad? Where are you?" I would call out right outside the toilet door, and he would remain stoically silent. Doing his own scatalogical version of "La la la I can't hear you". He is paranoid too about toilet noises. He will cough and harrumph and try and ensure that no-one is nearby before sneaking away to the loo. I inherited this to an extent. I mean, I wouldn't pretend not to be there, but in public I still didn't like making noises. I learned to time an, ah, noise perfectly with another toilet flushing, or the hand-dryer going. Which is a bit weird. But understandable, given the inheritance.
When I got together with the LOML she was my first live-together partner. Her family are absolutely the opposite. Whereas all bathroom and toilet doors in my house were resolutely locked as a matter of course, hers didn't even have locks. In our first flat, she would sit there with the door open, chatting to me while wiping her arse. At the time, I was shocked by this, but, being (a) English, (b) a chap and (c) trying hard to be a good boyfriend/flatmate, tried not to show it.
Being a self analytical sort of bloke, I hope, I recognised that when we had children hers was probably a more healthy way of approaching matters than the rigid repression of the issue that my family displayed. It took a while, but I got used to it, and my children now have the uninhibited approach of the LOML. Which I generally think is a Good Thing.
I still can't watch any of them wiping their arse though. That's disgusting.
Something Salvadore was saying made me think about my childhood and perhaps some reason why I used to be a bit weird.
The fact is this: my father, bless him, does not admit to going to the toilet. At all. He will not talk about it to anyone other than my mother. And if he is on the toilet, he will pretend he isn't.
I lost count of the number of times I would wander the house as a small child calling "Dad! Dad? Where are you?" I would call out right outside the toilet door, and he would remain stoically silent. Doing his own scatalogical version of "La la la I can't hear you". He is paranoid too about toilet noises. He will cough and harrumph and try and ensure that no-one is nearby before sneaking away to the loo. I inherited this to an extent. I mean, I wouldn't pretend not to be there, but in public I still didn't like making noises. I learned to time an, ah, noise perfectly with another toilet flushing, or the hand-dryer going. Which is a bit weird. But understandable, given the inheritance.
When I got together with the LOML she was my first live-together partner. Her family are absolutely the opposite. Whereas all bathroom and toilet doors in my house were resolutely locked as a matter of course, hers didn't even have locks. In our first flat, she would sit there with the door open, chatting to me while wiping her arse. At the time, I was shocked by this, but, being (a) English, (b) a chap and (c) trying hard to be a good boyfriend/flatmate, tried not to show it.
Being a self analytical sort of bloke, I hope, I recognised that when we had children hers was probably a more healthy way of approaching matters than the rigid repression of the issue that my family displayed. It took a while, but I got used to it, and my children now have the uninhibited approach of the LOML. Which I generally think is a Good Thing.
I still can't watch any of them wiping their arse though. That's disgusting.
posted by crisiswhatcrisis at
12:14 pm
5 Comments:
It was when the childrens' little friends started coming in to ask me for drinks or biscuits while I was ensconced that I realised it was time to inhibit things a bit. I mean, I didn't mind about the children but I didn't want the whole village knowing I went to the loo sometimes.
Happy Christmas :)
By
mig bardsley, at 1:16 am
my mother used to go to the loo to escape us (it was the only room in the house with a lock on the door), only we knew this (that she was trying to get away) and we would sit by the loo door asking when she was going to be finished, when she was going to be out, what was going to be for tea, arguing with each other and all the rest of it
I'm now thinking of the benefits of outhouses - maybe they were designed with avoidance of children in mind
oh it's always great coming here - so stimulating
By
I, Like The View, at 11:02 am
I used to go for a number 2 whilst my ex was in the shower...I only did it to piss him off though coz he hated it!! Ha, thats actually quite funny!!
By
Holly, at 3:42 pm
And he's now an ex because ....?
By
crisiswhatcrisis, at 10:14 am
He was a bit of a twat! Not for the toilet reasons...I dont think!!
By
Holly, at 1:48 pm
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