Monday, November 21, 2011

One word... Poop.

Post Script addition:  I often exaggerate...  immensly in this blog.  Please do not take me seriously when I say things like I yelled at my kids.  Raising my voice slightly is a more accurate discription.  Again, this is a humor blog...  a requirement for reading this blog is that you must have a fully functioning sense of humor.

Occasionally I get a question about this blog and why I never post it on facebook anymore and I always answer that it's because I have a few religious friends and they might get offended by the things I say, even though I do not mean ANYTHING I say on here in seriousness (except as otherwise explicitly stated in the fine print, blah, blah, blah...) AKA, I don't really give a shit what you think but I'm trying to pose as a nice person because maybe it will get me a date one day... People won't say, she's a mean bitch and she makes fun of Mormons, they will say, "Oh what a nice girl with her two sweet children..."  (I know you all know the truth)

And one of those "sweet children" is the subject of tonight's blog-oh-rama. Poop. Yes, poop.

So I was blabbing away on Facebook tonight about how I never post anymore on my funny blog and thinking to myself, "Geez, I just don't seem to be finding the material anymore...  Either that or I'm just turning into a complete douche bag and don't have a sense of humor at this stage in life."  And then...  it happened...  yes, my karma came to me...

I was typing away on the computer after I cooked a lovely steak dinner, chatting on facebook and texting like a high-schooler.  I had put a movie on for the kids, as I often do in the evenings after dinner and I assumed the little "Sweetie Sweetums" was playing in her room.  Blah, blah, blah, and what do I hear...  the toilet lid.  Now, for those of you that are parents of a potty-training child, or have been at one time, this can either spell D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R or it can spell success.  But which word comes first in the dictionary?!  Yes, that's right folks, the big D!

I called her name, of course she never responds to this, and saw that the light was out in the bathroom, but there was a suspicious smell telling me something was still going on.  I flipped on the light just to catch her dropping a big chunk of poop into the toilet with her bare hands!  KER-PLOP!

My immediate reaction was to yell, of course, because I am mother of the year, and so I yelled, "What the HELL are you doing?!" with all my great parenting skills to back me.  Sweetie Sweetums just looked at me like, "Yeah, eff you...  I feel fantastic, I just pooped a redwood-sized log."  I ran into the bedroom and saw the discarded diaper on the floor and then frantically ran back to the bathroom.  At this point she had already run her hands through her hair.  Panicked, I picked her up under her armpits and set her in the tub, smearing more poop on the way.  I yelled, "Don't move!!" (I'm pretty sure the veins were popping out of my forehead at this point and I was giving my best "evil mommy" glare) and I yelled for the 5 year old to bring me the wipes so I could at least wipe off the poop smears from the side of the tub and the ones she had left on the cabinets.  Of course, because Jebus hates me for writing this irreverent blog, he suddenly couldn't remember where to find them.  Screaming in disgust at this point, because I am a completely patient person when I have poop all over my hands, the floor, the walls, my 2 1/2 year old, the cabinets, and just about everything else I stormed out of the bathroom to get the wipes myself.

Needless to say, I maintained complete composure during the whole debacle (and I will be going to hell for lying, among other things).  After several rinses, a little bit of gagging, and some good solid sham-POOing, I think I got the situation under control  (this sort of control is just an illusion because there's always the chance of another random poop smearing, diarrhea explosion, barfing, or any other disgusting bodily function, likely to get all over the carpet, walls, car, car-seats, clothes, etc.).

I have learned my lesson in all of this.  Never ask for humor material, because you will SURELY get it, and not in the way that you want it...  I'm not quite laughing about this yet, but I figured everyone else would.  So go ahead, laugh it up, Chuckles!  I'll be walking around my house all night so afraid to touch anything for fear of there being some poop on a door handle or something that I missed.  Do you think there's such a thing as a poop-bomb for your house, like a flea-bomb??  I pretty sure I'm going to have a nightmare about poop tonight...