grief laughter

toilet paper

scotts

About two years ago Mom came clean with us. No pun intended. She was spending the night with Max. I’m not sure where Bob and I were but Mom started bringing her own toilet paper to our house.

I can’t remember how the subject came up, or how I figured this out, but I remember Bob, Dad and me laughing hysterically as she pointed out to us that our Scott’s Toilet Paper was no better than sandpaper. She started talking about coming to visit in NYC, (over ten years ago!) and how awful our Scott’s tissue was then.

You have to understand,

1. Mom was very modest and ladylike when it came to certain subjects.
2. In her pursuit of keeping the peace and not upsetting anyone, she often didn’t share her critiques.

I didn’t really inherit my mom’s ways above. Living and breathing NYC for 12 years put a nail in the ladylike coffin. I had joined a family and neighborhood that spoke up about everything! Ad naseum…you hate the %$*!@ toilet paper, get your own *&$#!#@! toilet paper!

But the liberative power of aging allowed her to open up. I also think the numerous trips to NYC laid a foundation. My mom’s passionate opinions about our choice of toilet paper was just one of many places in this new “filter-less” land. She totally deserved to voice all of those things she had kept in.

About three weeks ago, I walked into the family room after visiting the bathroom and asked Bob, “What prompted you to change the toilet paper?” I noticed the difference immediately.

“I don’t know. When I was at Costco, I just looked at  this other one and it said two-ply and soft. I just thought – why not try it?”

Max announced with a passion equal to my mom’s disgust a few years ago, “Dad, that toilet paper is awesome!”

We laughed and talked about Mom’s TP stash at the McKnight house. We still have her roll on the top shelf in the bathroom cabinet – to the left of the bandaids.

“You know Bobby, I think my mom made you by that toilet paper.”

He smiled.

In the toilet paper battle, it looks like Mom won.

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