My daughter walked into my room and said, “Mom, are boys gross?” I replied, “A little bit honey. Why are you asking?” Because daddy just asked me to pull his finger again and then yelled “Did you hear that barking spider?” “You usually say that is gross and stinky. Jay seems stinky too. Are all boys gross?” I looked at my little girl and said, “Honey, boys tend to be a little grosser and stinkier than girls. They like to poot and burp and make weird sounds. They are just a little different than us, but it is OK. They are free entertainment.”
I thought about how often I tell my husband that he is gross. I didn’t think that I said it that much! Well, maybe I do! My husband is one of those guys who is only gross around close friends and family. He is Mister Manners at most times; his manners are actually quite amazing and people find him very charming. Then he comes home with gas, quacking like a duck, and cussing like a sailor. I find him slightly gross, but extremely amusing. He does know how to behave in public but, unfortunately for me, he leaves little to the imagination.
Recently he asked me to buy him some Metamucil. I bought it, and a few weeks later he brought in the container and sat it on the kitchen island. He then asked me to buy him more. I asked, “Is that already empty? Did you use it all?” He said, “I did. I’ve used it every day and now I’m pooping like a goose!” I said, “That is so gross!” He said “No! That is great! I am using less toilet paper and my boxers are much cleaner! What was happening before was gross! Why do you think I switched to all black boxers? Because, all the other ones were getting a grayish-brown tinge!” I shuddered and said, “You seriously have to get your own hamper! And I think you should have to carry your own underwear to the laundry room. Actually, just wash your underwear in the washing machine in the garage. Our indoor washer is not for completely disgusting articles of clothing! Poop stained pants go in the garage only! You know the rules!”
He laughed and said, “Oh honey, it is no longer a problem, thanks to the Metamucil my boxers are skid-free and safe to handle. I said “You really are gross!” He said, “Getting old is not easy. Come look at my ear hairs! I can’t believe how long they have gotten; my nose hairs too! I pulled one out last week that must have been connected to my brain!” I just shook my head and sighed; I mean, what else could I say. He leaves for work and I took the kids to school.
Two hours later I am pulling the clothes out of the dryer and carrying them into my bedroom. I lay the clothes out and there are his dreaded black boxers. Even though they were clean, I still held them like they were toxic waste. I used a delicate pincher grasp, trying only to touch the waist band and avoid the crotch. I was stacking up his black boxers and I realized that my clothes were completely stuck to them. I don’t usually need fabric softener sheets on anything except fuzzy blankets, but for some reason his boxers had serious static cling. This did not used to be a problem! His underwear did not used to cling, for dear life, to all of our clothes! “Why now?” I wondered; this was seriously bothering me. Maybe it is all of that “pooping like a goose!” Maybe the sheer amount of times that he is pulling those boxers up and down is causing too much friction in his underwear!
Going through his boxers, I was just getting more grossed out by the minute and then, I got seriously bummed out. My delicate little panties were favorite t-shirts were static-clinged to the crotch of his black boxers. Of all the things to get stuck to the crotch of his underwear; he could not have planned it better himself! I pulled my “dainties” off of his boxers and apologized profusely to my clothes for having to experience that level of trauma. I then promised my lovely clothes that they would never again have to be washed with those vulgar boxers!
OK, so maybe (on occasion) I do tell my husband that he is gross. And maybe, my children hear this but, honestly, they think that their dad is hilarious. My daughter screams that “dad is so gross”, but she is laughing so hard that she almost wets her pants. This is the kind of reaction that just eggs him on; my husband loves to get a rise out of both momma and “mini momma” (as he sometimes calls our daughter). I only hope that we have not completely screwed up our children yet. I will try to watch how often I call my husband “gross” in front of the children. At least, I also say a lot of great things about him! My husband is smart, strong, determined, caring, and “poops like a goose!” It’s just like I tell my daughter – “Hey, nobody is perfect!” But some are grosser than others!