Dear J,

 First of all, please let me say that you have the most amazing brothers.  Before you roll your eyes, hear me out.  I know they pick on you, make fun of you, and push your buttons.  I know they frustrate you.  But they have some good qualities, too.  They're smart, funny, and loyal.  And they love you fiercely.  If they ever thought you were hurt or in danger, they'd mobilize quickly.  I already feel sorry for the boy who breaks your heart someday.  I hope he never comes in contact with your brothers.

Having said all of that, your dad and I owe you an apology.  You can save this and take it to your therapist some day as proof that we take full blame for any long-term damage our error in judgment has caused.

I am so sorry that when making our list of "must" and "like to have" things for this house, "pool," and "two living spaces" and "good schools" made the list, but "J having her own bathroom so she doesn't have to share with two teenaged boys" didn't even come up.

That was a grievous error on our part--brought to my attention when I cleaned said bathroom for the first time probably since we moved in four months ago.

Okay--to the reader(s) of this blog who are now feeling a tightening in their throats and are heading toward their nearest bathrooms--calm down.  Take deep breaths.  The bathroom has been cleaned since we've been here.  Many times.  Just not by me.  I don't use it and I have three children whose ages are in the double-digits.  They are more than capable of cleaning a bathroom.

J--I know that you clean it mostly.  You are now one of my heroes.  Occasionally, one of your siblings will.  Most recently, one of your brothers got the job. Last Monday, in fact.  A "reward" for leaving his Starbucks cup next to the sink in there for a week.

But yesterday, I decided to clean it.  I figured, it was just cleaned last Monday.  How bad could it be?

The Universe--or possibly my sons--anticipated that thought and took it as a personal challenge.

I walked in and IMMEDIATELY had to open a window to air out the smell of--well, "feet" would be the nicest body part with which to compare the odor to.

Remember...this thing was cleaned a week ago.  A WEEK.  And I inspected it after it was cleaned.  This travesty occurred in less than seven days' time.

Laundry and dirty towels littered the floor.  The counter was covered with toothpaste tubes, bottles, lotions, hairbrushes, empty toilet paper tubes (still shaking my head over that one, since a trash can sits in PLAIN SIGHT) and stuff I can't  and don't want to identify.

I felt the need for a Silkwood decontamination shower (I know that you are too young to understand the Silkwood reference, dear daughter, but that's one of the beautiful things about the Internet.  Just Google it.  :o) ) after scrubbing out the tub.

And don't even get me STARTED on the toilet.  I'll spare you except to say that I have used Port-a-Potties that were cleaner.  No one should have to say that about a toilet in their own home, let alone use one.  Ever.

Anyway, again. My profound apologies.  I cannot believe that you shower and get ready for school in there every single day.  And I now understand why you ask to use my bathroom on a regular basis.  And the ongoing answer is yes.  Feel free.

If it makes you feel any better, I have two future daughters-in-law who, at this rate, are going to hate me with a seething, red-hot passion.

And the bathroom will be yours, and yours alone in four years.  Which probably seems like a terribly long time to you, but will go by very quickly.

In the meantime, I'll put your dad on the task of keeping better tabs on what it looks like in there.  :o)

I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me,

XOXO,

Mom