What a Stay-at-Home-Mom Has Spent Entirely Too Much Time Thinking About

I wonder if we can trace the pathway of our life by our intimate knowledge of the back of our toilet?  I mean, as a small child, I vomited in the toilet, much like most children my age, but I was rarely alone.  A parent, usually my mother, was there, holding my hair back, rubbing my back as I expelled the contents of my stomach into the porcelain bowl.  It was probably at that time that I took notice of that metal tube at the rear of the toilet.  I would have asked what it was if I'd had time between gags.

Of course, I certainly forgot to ask and by the time I revisited that area, I was a belligerent preteen, most certainly alone.  I was alone back there because, as a 12-year-old, it was now my job to clean the entire bathroom and I was belligerent because I was, of course, 12.  And, since belligerency had crowded out curiosity, I did not wonder what the metal tube was for and why it was so cold, I merely hated it.

So, time passed and my preteen angst went away and my curiosity returned. However, as a college student, my curiostiy was otherwise occupied with boys, Marketing 101, alcohol, overseas travel and finding a job (yes, probably in that order).  There were several times my curiosity with alcohol got the best of me, and I, once again, found myself hanging out around the back of my toilet.  But, at that point, the metal bar was covered in several months of dirt and grime and any thought given to it made me wretch more so I tried to avoid it. 

 Now, as the mother of small children, I again find myself spending time in close quarters with the back of my toilet.  I'm once more charged with keeping that area clear of vomit and urine.  However, once again, my curiosity is distracted from the function of the parts by questions more along the lines of 'why it is so hard for some young males to discern the toilet from the trash can?'  And, 'the opening is HUGE, what exactly makes it so difficult to hit?' And, 'Oh, how disgusting is that?!'

Who knows where my relationship with my toilet will take me in the future.   I just take comfort in knowing that some things do not change:  Moms will continue to rub the backs of vomiting children, someday, it will definitely be the responsibility of one of my daughters to clean it,  the metal bar is still there and it's still strangely cold.

By the way, in the course of writing this, I stumbled upon someone else who has asked, and unlike me, answered questions about their toilet.