OxiCrisis

When I find a product that I love I'll tell anyone within ear shot about it, whether they want to know or not. Good products that serve me well become my obsession, and like all extreme behaviors, mine borders on the obnoxious. Yummi Yogurt, Natori Bras, Kinerase C8-Peptide Treatment, the Athleta All That Pant; I love these products and I want others to love them, too. I'm sure some shrink could have a psychological heyday with my need for external validation, but enough about my mother's short comings, back to the products.

I've been at the bank before and overheard a woman, no less than 5 people in front of me, discuss her absolute desperate search for a decent, cute raincoat that she could wear out with the kids or to work. Those were the only words I needed to hear as I weaseled my way forward, inserting myself into the conversation. I told this woman in excruciating detail about THE perfect rain coat. The North Face Grace Jacket. The one that would cover her butt, had a hood, was belted, and feminine, so as not to make her look like a hobbit from Lord of the Rings. I knew it's exact cost, including tax, it's whereabouts in the greater Bay Area (it's sold out at REI), and color options. I cut an entire bank line, contributed my unsolicited 2 cents, then trotted off on my merry way. I was so pleased with myself, that not only did I forget the banking I needed to do, but I was completely oblivious to the shell shocked stare this woman followed me with as I went to my car.

One could say I'm an evangelist of sorts and almost as delusional as the ones you see on TV; with a strong held belief that bestowing my knowledge upon the less fortunate will make the world a better place. It's my G_d given right. But this next product really will change your life, or at least your laundry; and if you have kids, goodness knows you can feel that laundry is your life.

Enter my 5 year obsession with OxiClean; the one in the blue spray bottle, not the powdered crap that you have to mix yourself. I love it so much. I know, it all sounds a bit dramatic, maybe a touch shallow right? But even more shallow than that is my fondness of material things; clothes, purses, furniture, anything cashmere. And when something happens to ruin those things - like Desitin being smeared on my favorite oriental carpet - I go crazy.

First, I hate wasting money (my husband might argue that point). It's also a huge inconvenience to have to go out and buy things like new white t-shirts every week because my kids have yet to grasp the concept that after finger paints, hand sanitizer does not take the place of soap and water. Second, and most important, it's a major let down when I can no longer wear my favorite jeans that make my butt look like the white girl's version of J-Lo (not really) because they have Sharpee scribbles all over them.

OxiClean, savior of my sanity, and all things material. If I could, I would marry it. Even my kids, when I get them empty spray bottles at the store for water play, they pretend the water is "Ox", short for OxiClean. "Hey Gregory, your face looks like a big poop, let me spray some Ox on it." Yup, he's right, it can get out poop stains, too.

But for every yin, there is a yang; a dark side when a beloved product lets me down, or G_d forbid, disappears. This past month has tested my limits as a human being. There has been an OxiClean shortage in the Bay Area. Target, Safeway, Rite Aid, CVS, and all of my local markets have been cleaned out. The shelves are empty, my laundry basket is full, full of stained clothes waiting to be pre-treated with this magic potion.

The moms and teachers (custodians, deliverymen, secretaries) at the boys' school have heard me bitching and moaning about my plight, my search for OxiClean. Some of the Oxi ignorant question, "What's so great about OxiClean? Just use Shout, it's the same thing." Oh no you di'int go using the s-word on me, girlfriend.

I don't mean to stereo type, but every single one of them was a mom of only girls. They admitted to not having any real stain issues and politely asked, "So what do you use it for?"

You name it, breast milk, grease, permanent marker, blood.

"Blood?"

Yes, blood.

Next came the scrunched up facial expression begging the question, "Is she joking?"

No, Mary Poppins, I'm not.

One of my fellow moms who also recognized the virtues of OxiClean was so horrified to hear of the shortage, she actually went home to see if she could spare a bottle out of her own stash. Sorry to say she could not. I am my own worst enemy here. I talked/obsessed about the crisis so much, I scared her into hoarding mode. Fortunately, my own mother came to the rescue, sending 4 bottles to me straight from CT, and priority mail no less. Sorry for the psychology dig earlier, Mom. Kids these days are so ungrateful.