Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Little Irritations

It sounds so cliché.  But when I was growing up, my mother was always hounding my dad to not squeeze the toothpaste in the middle of the tube.  It bothered her to no end.

I got so very tired of it. So one year for Christmas I decided to save up my quarters from snack money for school, and send away to Regal catalogue for a very needed Christmas gift.  It cost all of five dollars and ninety-nine cents plus a dollar shipping and handling (a fortune in 1973, I thought) but the results were that they no longer fought about the toothpaste: one of the few victories I ever scored growing up.

I got them a manual toothpaste dispenser.  It appealed to Mom for three reasons: one, it made sure Dad never squeezed the tube in the middle, two, there was far less mess, and three, it helped them use all the toothpaste in the tube, saving money.  Dad was glad he didn't have to go searching for the tube and - bonus - it didn't take up as much room since the tube was stored (so to speak) on its end.  Space was at a premium in our house - which Dad described to one person as a "two-storey outhouse" (taller than it was wide).  

They only ever fought about stupid little things like that, and for years upon years these types of things were such bones of contention with them.  Like - who CARES if the stupid toothpaste is squeezed in the middle?  Just be glad he brushes his teeth!  Why would it matter that he doesn't get all the dirt rinsed off his hands when washing them from working in the foundry all day, and then wipes the dirt on the towel?  He's working hard to provide as best he can for his family!!  He takes the time to try to get the first layer of grease off his hands - has to use "Snap" to get it loosened even - and he repairs everything in the house that needs fixing.  So WHAT if he leaves the toilet seat up!  have you forgotten that you used to have to carry the slop pail out to the outhouse in the middle of the winter?  and that Dad installed that bathroom himself so you didn't have to do that anymore?

Of course these are thoughts I had within myself as a child; I never dared express them.  I just wanted everyone to get along.  And so - the dispenser.

Dad passed away in 1993, twelve years after I had left home to start a new life with hubby.  The loss was so very difficult for everyone in the family.  

Mom tried to be strong for our sakes but we could see that she was suffering so very much.  They had done nearly everything together and we knew that she was going to miss him.  We all would, but she the most of all!

About two years after he passed, she and I were talking one day about how different her life was without him.  She grew quiet and her eyes picked a spot in front of her to stare at as she spoke her heart. "You know, I used to get so mad at your father for leaving the toilet seat up.  He'd do it every time too, without fail.  That and so many other things I yelled at him about.  And now," her voice caught as she struggled to remain composure, "I would give ANYTHING to go into that bathroom and see that seat up, if it meant he was with me again."  Her chin quivered.  "I was so foolish, so petty Judy.  I couldn't see how very good I had it.  If only he knew  -  !!"  

I reached for her hand.  "He knows, Mom.  He knows."

A couple of years ago, after my hubby came back from Rehab after being there for three weeks, I went into the bathroom to carry out my morning routine, only to find that he'd left the toilet seat up ... again.  

And I smiled in gratitude.

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