Ok, I was reading and commenting on blogs and had left the laptop on the chair to make Devin some chocolate milk and change Peyton's stinky buns. Nuby took this opportunity to play on the laptop.
When I started writing my blog, the letters kept turning to that funky wing ding font. I kept deleting the words and re-writing them but every time I hit the space bar my word would change from english to some fucked up mumbo jumbo. After writing the word santa ten million times and watching it change to garble I was beyond furious. I was swearing and slamming the tiny little space bar key. I stood up and shook the laptop out in front of me wishing I could give it shaken laptop syndrome. Then I plopped it onto the chair and went to the kitchen to find a snack to calm me down.
After my halloween candy happiness, I came back and explored in the settings. That darn little Nuby had changed my font to Hindi. How does he do these things?
Another Nuby strikes again happened last week when Chris and I went to pick up Coin-O in Maumee. We got there fine and picked up Coin and Bo and were setting off to bring her here. No problem, right? We are adults who had driven there fine. We set our Garmin to home and set off. I was so excited. Chris sets off for the entrance to the highway and Coin says that this isn't the way that she usually went. We scoff at her...how could she possibly think that she knows better than Garmin. He is the ultimate navigation guy in our car. So, we ignore her. We ignore the person who has been driving this route for years. We start out in the direction the Garmin tells us dispite her warnings.
What the hell did that sign say?
We are headed for the wrong freaking state!
What the hell Garmin?
You lied to us?!?
I then remember Nuby the last trip we went on, Nuby was sitting with Garmin. I check the settings and realize that he has changed the home address to somewhere in Dayton, Ohio which is four hours away from where we live. I reset it and get us back on track. Sorry Coin. I will never trust Garmin over Coin again.
How does Nuby sneak and do these things?
Join me on my journey into Happy Mayhem!
Monday, December 22, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
The rest of the story
So, I get Devin up to the bathroom and try to peel his pants off without being too messy. OH NO FREAKING WAY...liquid poo is pouring out of his swishy pants and running down his legs. I get him on the potty and for the love of all that's holy, he has more farty splurging poo. I hand him the bucket and he is now dry heaving in the bucket while his butt is threatening to turn inside out.
There is poop all over the floor, the smell is overwhelming vicious, I am now gagging myself and the two younger boys are trying to navigate into the bathroom around the piles of poop. So, now I'm attempting to wipe Devin's butt while simultaneously not throwing up on my sick child and yelling at Nuby and Peyton to go play outside of the bathroom. I managed to get them out and shut the door, wipe Devin and clean up the mucusy liquid poop from the grout.
All in all Devin crapped his pants three times, projectile pooped in the toilet 5 times, puked in the bathtub twice and puked in random spots in the house throughout the day.
There is poop all over the floor, the smell is overwhelming vicious, I am now gagging myself and the two younger boys are trying to navigate into the bathroom around the piles of poop. So, now I'm attempting to wipe Devin's butt while simultaneously not throwing up on my sick child and yelling at Nuby and Peyton to go play outside of the bathroom. I managed to get them out and shut the door, wipe Devin and clean up the mucusy liquid poop from the grout.
All in all Devin crapped his pants three times, projectile pooped in the toilet 5 times, puked in the bathtub twice and puked in random spots in the house throughout the day.
Cleaning after the war
EXPLICIT WARNING: Not for the light stomach individuals.
Phew...yesterday was a rough day that I was ill prepared for. Never NEVER EVER in my life have I experienced such raw stankin horror.
Ok, let me start at the beginning. So, settle in and get a napkin in case you need to dry heave.
Peyton has a horrific cough that started after a 5 day stay Thanksgiving trip to my mom's house. It's not just a regular cough. He coughs until he gags and dry heaves. His little face turns beat red as he is trying to catch his breath. The doctor said it was probably just due to being in a smoking environment (my mom's). It is getting better now that we have a cool mist humidifier in his room at night. Night time is when most of the "attacks" occur.
So, Thursday I had a meeting in Columbus, which is where my mom lives. So, we took off before the butt crack of dawn for Columbus. Two and a half hours into the trip Peyton starts coughing until he throws up all over himself. Lovely. There is no exit in sight and I am not pulling over for fear of a speeding car hitting us as we are parked. I hand Devin a towel and like the good big brother he is, he goes to town cleaning the puke off of Peyton while Nuby is holding his nose yelling, "EW, Pey Pey stinks". Needless to say the car was smelly gross the whole 3 hour ride home that night too.
Before leaving for the night, we went out to eat with my mom and stepdad. Devin was an all out little shit head. Usually when with my mom he is an angel, but during one of my trips taking Peyton and Nuby to the restroom, Devin took it upon himself to throw his fork, slam his little fists on the table and blatantly refuse to obey anything. My stepdad took/carried him outside to recompose himself, where Devin decided to just scream at the top of his lungs. Grandpa smacked him in the mouth and apparently this was what he needed to regain control. They came back inside and Devin finished his meal with red pathetic puffy eyes.
We got on the road a little after 7:00 and Devin quickly zonked out. Him and Peyton slept the rest of the way home while Nuby chattered non-stop about motorcyles and dogs.
When we got home, Chris had all the bedtime supplies ready and we put the three boys in their beds.
This is where all hell breaks loose. Nuby likes to wander around in the middle of the night silently doing his own thing. I wake up to find him sitting in my bed in between me and Chris looking at pictures and talking to them. I fall back asleep to wake up to Peyton coughing and Nuby calling, "Daddy, Pey Pey's coughin, He wants you." Chris and I both get out of bed to handle the situation. We get them back to sleep.
We go back to sleep and I wake up to hear Devin shrieking. I find him standing in the hallway. I have to yell at him to get a response to why he is crying. "I pukeded". I send him into the bathroom to wait for me while I investigate. His stomach must have woken him up and he leaned over his top bunk and puked onto the floor. We have hard wood floors, so of course it splattered everywhere. On his way down the ladder he must have thrown up a second time and this is when I believe he started shrieking, because he probably did not know what the heck his little body was doing.
I get him and his room cleaned up and put him back to bed. 6:00 rolls around and I hear the splatter sound again. Clean again and put him in bed with me. Get up at 7:45 to call off work and get up with Peyton. Devin gets up and heads straight to the bathroom to throw up again.
I made him a little bed on the couch and wait to call my friend Lora was is far more experienced in the realm of throwing up than I am. Bad idea, I am jinxed. Everything she warns me of comes true. As she is warning me that diahrrea may accompany the puking, Devin asks me for new underwear. When I inquire to the whereabouts of his underwear, he says that he had an accident. I head up to the bathroom to find a toilet full of projectile diahrrea and his underwear must have taken the brunt of the force. Gagging, I clean it up the floor surrounding the toilet, seal the underwear in a bag and throw them away.
Devin is back on the couch in clean clothes and I put a bucket next to him with a towel under it. He poops/explodes two more times, thankfully, all in the toilet. I call Lora back to ask her what the hell I should do. She tells me to make sure he is staying hydrated and not to give him too much water at a time because it will make him throw up. So, I give him a sippy cup of water and tell him to drink slow. I head into the kitchen to clean up after breakfast. The other boys want some string cheese so, I ask Devin if he would like some cheese too (against Lora's advice of NO FOOD). Devin politely declines and leans over to start violently puking up the water. I pull his little body off of the couch to get closer to the bucker. He finished up (never cries once) and tells me the he poopeded, it was an accident and he is sorry. I tell him that he doesn't have to worry, he's sick and sometimes that these things happen when you are sick. He waddles up to the bathroom so I can clean him up.
To be continued...
Phew...yesterday was a rough day that I was ill prepared for. Never NEVER EVER in my life have I experienced such raw stankin horror.
Ok, let me start at the beginning. So, settle in and get a napkin in case you need to dry heave.
Peyton has a horrific cough that started after a 5 day stay Thanksgiving trip to my mom's house. It's not just a regular cough. He coughs until he gags and dry heaves. His little face turns beat red as he is trying to catch his breath. The doctor said it was probably just due to being in a smoking environment (my mom's). It is getting better now that we have a cool mist humidifier in his room at night. Night time is when most of the "attacks" occur.
So, Thursday I had a meeting in Columbus, which is where my mom lives. So, we took off before the butt crack of dawn for Columbus. Two and a half hours into the trip Peyton starts coughing until he throws up all over himself. Lovely. There is no exit in sight and I am not pulling over for fear of a speeding car hitting us as we are parked. I hand Devin a towel and like the good big brother he is, he goes to town cleaning the puke off of Peyton while Nuby is holding his nose yelling, "EW, Pey Pey stinks". Needless to say the car was smelly gross the whole 3 hour ride home that night too.
Before leaving for the night, we went out to eat with my mom and stepdad. Devin was an all out little shit head. Usually when with my mom he is an angel, but during one of my trips taking Peyton and Nuby to the restroom, Devin took it upon himself to throw his fork, slam his little fists on the table and blatantly refuse to obey anything. My stepdad took/carried him outside to recompose himself, where Devin decided to just scream at the top of his lungs. Grandpa smacked him in the mouth and apparently this was what he needed to regain control. They came back inside and Devin finished his meal with red pathetic puffy eyes.
We got on the road a little after 7:00 and Devin quickly zonked out. Him and Peyton slept the rest of the way home while Nuby chattered non-stop about motorcyles and dogs.
When we got home, Chris had all the bedtime supplies ready and we put the three boys in their beds.
This is where all hell breaks loose. Nuby likes to wander around in the middle of the night silently doing his own thing. I wake up to find him sitting in my bed in between me and Chris looking at pictures and talking to them. I fall back asleep to wake up to Peyton coughing and Nuby calling, "Daddy, Pey Pey's coughin, He wants you." Chris and I both get out of bed to handle the situation. We get them back to sleep.
We go back to sleep and I wake up to hear Devin shrieking. I find him standing in the hallway. I have to yell at him to get a response to why he is crying. "I pukeded". I send him into the bathroom to wait for me while I investigate. His stomach must have woken him up and he leaned over his top bunk and puked onto the floor. We have hard wood floors, so of course it splattered everywhere. On his way down the ladder he must have thrown up a second time and this is when I believe he started shrieking, because he probably did not know what the heck his little body was doing.
I get him and his room cleaned up and put him back to bed. 6:00 rolls around and I hear the splatter sound again. Clean again and put him in bed with me. Get up at 7:45 to call off work and get up with Peyton. Devin gets up and heads straight to the bathroom to throw up again.
I made him a little bed on the couch and wait to call my friend Lora was is far more experienced in the realm of throwing up than I am. Bad idea, I am jinxed. Everything she warns me of comes true. As she is warning me that diahrrea may accompany the puking, Devin asks me for new underwear. When I inquire to the whereabouts of his underwear, he says that he had an accident. I head up to the bathroom to find a toilet full of projectile diahrrea and his underwear must have taken the brunt of the force. Gagging, I clean it up the floor surrounding the toilet, seal the underwear in a bag and throw them away.
Devin is back on the couch in clean clothes and I put a bucket next to him with a towel under it. He poops/explodes two more times, thankfully, all in the toilet. I call Lora back to ask her what the hell I should do. She tells me to make sure he is staying hydrated and not to give him too much water at a time because it will make him throw up. So, I give him a sippy cup of water and tell him to drink slow. I head into the kitchen to clean up after breakfast. The other boys want some string cheese so, I ask Devin if he would like some cheese too (against Lora's advice of NO FOOD). Devin politely declines and leans over to start violently puking up the water. I pull his little body off of the couch to get closer to the bucker. He finished up (never cries once) and tells me the he poopeded, it was an accident and he is sorry. I tell him that he doesn't have to worry, he's sick and sometimes that these things happen when you are sick. He waddles up to the bathroom so I can clean him up.
To be continued...
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Lost and mortified
My life has been absolutely completely taken over by the tv series lost. We have now ordered 4 seasons and we are currently watching season 2. It is ALL we do. I dream about it every night and when I compare everyone I know, see or meet to the characters on lost. I LOVE LOST! With that said, I'm sure you know why I haven't been posting consistently. I've been watching episode after episode of lost.
I do have a few funny stories to share with you though...
Teeny tiny boobs and strange growing hair.
I have not bought new bras since before I began my three year stint of making babies, having babies and nursing babies. My boobs have been dramatically deformed from all of this. So, I finally decided it was time to go get some new bras. Me, Chris and Peyton took off for the mall because I had a wonderful $10 off coupon for Victoria's Secret. We get there and start browsing around and I pick out a few bras in "my size" and take them to the fitting room to try on.
On my way in, the lovely store lady asks me if I need sized. I kindly decline wondering to myself, "What the hell does that even mean? I don't want this little girl with her perfect hair, make-up and young body in here feeling me up and judging my two different sized boobs and my old lady stomach." So, I try on the first bra which doesn't quite fit right. I call out to chris to go and get me a different size. Him and Peyton go and find what I had requested and promptly bring it back. I try it on and it doesn't look right either. I try on the other bra I had brought in with me and that doesn't fit right either. So, again I send Chris and Peyton out to hunt down a different size. They bring it back and again it doesn't look right.
At this point, I start to think that maybe I don't even know what size I am any more. So, I regretfully press the little buzzer to call the lady. She comes to the door and asks me in her sickly sweet voice, "What'd ya need, hon?" I'm peeking out the crack in the door, standing in the bra that just won't fit right, and tell her that I think I need sized. No problem she says and comes on in with her measuring tape.
I now know that getting measured is not the violating process that I had imagined. Nobody comes in and starts grabbing your ta tas to check your bust size. They simply use a measuring tape and measure above your bust (or in my case, my lack of bust). She infoms me that I am a 32 A.
I am speechless..........
Where did they go? Did my children suck the life out of them while rootin for their milk?
Ok. Whatever. They're gone.
As she is measuring above my boobs, I am standing in the bra that is too big. Therefore, you can see right into it and her face is right above my bosom reading the numbers on the tape. Let me explain that while my mother is all Italian, I look completely like my welsh, irish, german father. But, my mother bestowed upon me the wonderful charm of Italian nipple hairs. Don't laugh. And of course, I had been out of town for the last week and severely busy the week before that, so I had not gotten to remove the little hairs from their home. So, she is face to face with the few dark coarse hairs that in my eyes are big enough to wrap around her neck and choke the life out of her.
I am mortified.
If she noticed, she did not say a word or let on that she even saw them waving out at her.
Anyways, I got two new bras and I'm happy that my little girls are now supported instead of just resting in their little mobile homes.
I do have a few funny stories to share with you though...
Teeny tiny boobs and strange growing hair.
I have not bought new bras since before I began my three year stint of making babies, having babies and nursing babies. My boobs have been dramatically deformed from all of this. So, I finally decided it was time to go get some new bras. Me, Chris and Peyton took off for the mall because I had a wonderful $10 off coupon for Victoria's Secret. We get there and start browsing around and I pick out a few bras in "my size" and take them to the fitting room to try on.
On my way in, the lovely store lady asks me if I need sized. I kindly decline wondering to myself, "What the hell does that even mean? I don't want this little girl with her perfect hair, make-up and young body in here feeling me up and judging my two different sized boobs and my old lady stomach." So, I try on the first bra which doesn't quite fit right. I call out to chris to go and get me a different size. Him and Peyton go and find what I had requested and promptly bring it back. I try it on and it doesn't look right either. I try on the other bra I had brought in with me and that doesn't fit right either. So, again I send Chris and Peyton out to hunt down a different size. They bring it back and again it doesn't look right.
At this point, I start to think that maybe I don't even know what size I am any more. So, I regretfully press the little buzzer to call the lady. She comes to the door and asks me in her sickly sweet voice, "What'd ya need, hon?" I'm peeking out the crack in the door, standing in the bra that just won't fit right, and tell her that I think I need sized. No problem she says and comes on in with her measuring tape.
I now know that getting measured is not the violating process that I had imagined. Nobody comes in and starts grabbing your ta tas to check your bust size. They simply use a measuring tape and measure above your bust (or in my case, my lack of bust). She infoms me that I am a 32 A.
I am speechless..........
Where did they go? Did my children suck the life out of them while rootin for their milk?
Ok. Whatever. They're gone.
As she is measuring above my boobs, I am standing in the bra that is too big. Therefore, you can see right into it and her face is right above my bosom reading the numbers on the tape. Let me explain that while my mother is all Italian, I look completely like my welsh, irish, german father. But, my mother bestowed upon me the wonderful charm of Italian nipple hairs. Don't laugh. And of course, I had been out of town for the last week and severely busy the week before that, so I had not gotten to remove the little hairs from their home. So, she is face to face with the few dark coarse hairs that in my eyes are big enough to wrap around her neck and choke the life out of her.
I am mortified.
If she noticed, she did not say a word or let on that she even saw them waving out at her.
Anyways, I got two new bras and I'm happy that my little girls are now supported instead of just resting in their little mobile homes.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Turkey Hands!
Wow, I sure haven't posted in awhile. So, I will run down the updates since I last posted.
Devin...
For those of you who know anything about my five year old you will appreciate his big accomplishment. Devin has a hard time sitting for any length of time and absolutely despises anything to do with writing anything that even resembles the alphabet. So, I have been trying to do different things at home to show him that the letters will not suck his soul out. One night I got out all of our artsy craftsy stuff to make turkey hands. Me, Dev and Nuby traced our hands and were coloring our "feathers" when Devin decided he had enough and took a black crayon and make dark violent scribbles all over his turkey. I asked him why he would do that to the turkey he had worked so hard on and he just stares at me with his corky like face with his tongue half hanging out and shrugs his shoulders. This face drives me freaking crazy. So, I fly into a rage and rip up his turkey hand, tell him he made it ugly and throw it away.
Yes, I know I'm an asshole. I guess me and Devin are too much alike with rage and attention spans. We made a new turkey hand which is now proudly hanging on the wall in the dining room.
That is the prequel to his big accomplisment. We went to my mother's for Thanksgiving and we had been talking about making turkey hands to take for everybody. On Monday, we talked about our plans to mass make turkey hands after school that day. When I got there to pick him up that afternoon his little cubby was full of papers. I pulled them out and was looking at page after page of his unsteady tracing of his little hand. He came running over and said, "Look, mom, I made my turkey hands!" His teacher said that while everybody was running around and playing (which running is Devin's FAVORITE pastime) Devin was in the writing center deligently tracing his hand on scrap paper and putting each one in his cubby as he was finished.
We brought home the turkey hands and he cut every single one out and glued it to constuction paper. The following day we rushed home because I had worked an hour and a half over and we had a very short time span to finish the turkeys, bake cookies like I had promised, pack all of our bags and be ready for me to watch Lost at 9:00. So, we got home, ate dinner, baked cookies, and Devin got his sharpie and sat and wrote his name on each turkey. Any of you who know my Devin, knows that writing his name even once is a task. He wrote it on every single turkey and then he even put the finishing touches on them. Every good turkey hand needs eyes a beak and bright colored feathers.
I am so stinkin proud of my little man. These turkey hands may seem like a walk in the park to many five year olds or even 3 year olds, but this is a HUGE milestone for my Dev. I am going to have to take a picture of one and post it so you all can share in the turkey hand wonder.
Devin...
For those of you who know anything about my five year old you will appreciate his big accomplishment. Devin has a hard time sitting for any length of time and absolutely despises anything to do with writing anything that even resembles the alphabet. So, I have been trying to do different things at home to show him that the letters will not suck his soul out. One night I got out all of our artsy craftsy stuff to make turkey hands. Me, Dev and Nuby traced our hands and were coloring our "feathers" when Devin decided he had enough and took a black crayon and make dark violent scribbles all over his turkey. I asked him why he would do that to the turkey he had worked so hard on and he just stares at me with his corky like face with his tongue half hanging out and shrugs his shoulders. This face drives me freaking crazy. So, I fly into a rage and rip up his turkey hand, tell him he made it ugly and throw it away.
Yes, I know I'm an asshole. I guess me and Devin are too much alike with rage and attention spans. We made a new turkey hand which is now proudly hanging on the wall in the dining room.
That is the prequel to his big accomplisment. We went to my mother's for Thanksgiving and we had been talking about making turkey hands to take for everybody. On Monday, we talked about our plans to mass make turkey hands after school that day. When I got there to pick him up that afternoon his little cubby was full of papers. I pulled them out and was looking at page after page of his unsteady tracing of his little hand. He came running over and said, "Look, mom, I made my turkey hands!" His teacher said that while everybody was running around and playing (which running is Devin's FAVORITE pastime) Devin was in the writing center deligently tracing his hand on scrap paper and putting each one in his cubby as he was finished.
We brought home the turkey hands and he cut every single one out and glued it to constuction paper. The following day we rushed home because I had worked an hour and a half over and we had a very short time span to finish the turkeys, bake cookies like I had promised, pack all of our bags and be ready for me to watch Lost at 9:00. So, we got home, ate dinner, baked cookies, and Devin got his sharpie and sat and wrote his name on each turkey. Any of you who know my Devin, knows that writing his name even once is a task. He wrote it on every single turkey and then he even put the finishing touches on them. Every good turkey hand needs eyes a beak and bright colored feathers.
I am so stinkin proud of my little man. These turkey hands may seem like a walk in the park to many five year olds or even 3 year olds, but this is a HUGE milestone for my Dev. I am going to have to take a picture of one and post it so you all can share in the turkey hand wonder.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Sorry
I typed out a whole long post the other day but when I hit the "publish post" button, it all disappeared. So, I wanted to let you all know what will be coming...
Coming to a blog near you...
Poopy Pants: The Sequel
Coming to a blog near you...
Poopy Pants: The Sequel
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Poopy pants...the sequel
Since I haven't had anything funny happen lately, I decided to post another poopy pants story.
Ok. So, I have a pretty high stress job. I oversee multiple early childhood and school age programs throughout our county. It used to be a job that was split up between five people, but through the years they have "re-structred" (screwed people as much as they possibly can) the management positions. They finally had it whittled down to two people. Myself and my friend Coin-O, who was the assistant manager. When Coin-O left to work at a higher paying less stress job (can't blame her) they decided that they were re-structuring once more and wouldn't be refilling the position. Yeah for me.
In the weeks following her absence I was beside myself with frustration and feeling overwhelmed. When I get like this, I get the crazy-poos.
Crazy-poos- Extreme stomach cramps that come and go in waves. These waves bring hot flashes, searing pain and nauseau. It also gives you about a 10-20 second window to hobble your cramped up body to a toilet before your butt splurches. You must place yourself that must have walls or bars to hold on to.
Back to the story. I had been suffering for the crazy poos for quite a few days. I wasn't sure if my poor bum could take any more. I was so raw that I was now patting my poor bottom with scented baby wipes.
After days of this, I am at home with all of the kids doing something that I can't even remember. I was having a moment of peacefullness. I was just standing in my living room, staring out the giant picture window as the wind blew through the trees thinking of how it looked exactly like this when I was little. When....it....happened........
It hit quick this time. So quick that I didn't even know it happened. While staring out the window with a look of pure bliss on my face...I...farted.
Thought process in my head.
Hmmmmmmmmmm...
I didn't even know I had to toot.
That sure burned.
It's still burning!
Why is it still burning?
Is it burning on the inside or outside?
I think it's burning on the outside...
No
No
No
NOOOOO
There is no way this is happening again.
(I still have not moved from my blissful position at this point)
I then decide that I should check out the possible situation that could be escalating as the burning is spreading on the outside. I take off waddling up the stairs to keep it from smearing. Yep, smashed up carrots.
Why is this happening to me, God?
Can't you leave my poor butt alone for once.
I peel my clothing off and carefully step into the shower to wash my stinky butt. You would think that just pooping would make me gag. Nope, apparently I'm ok with the pooping part. But, I am not ok with washing my own butt when there is poo on it.
I won't go anymore into detail...ha ha ha...well, anymore than I already have. Ok, that sentence was ridiculous but I am going to leave it there cause it made me laugh.
Ok. So, I have a pretty high stress job. I oversee multiple early childhood and school age programs throughout our county. It used to be a job that was split up between five people, but through the years they have "re-structred" (screwed people as much as they possibly can) the management positions. They finally had it whittled down to two people. Myself and my friend Coin-O, who was the assistant manager. When Coin-O left to work at a higher paying less stress job (can't blame her) they decided that they were re-structuring once more and wouldn't be refilling the position. Yeah for me.
In the weeks following her absence I was beside myself with frustration and feeling overwhelmed. When I get like this, I get the crazy-poos.
Crazy-poos- Extreme stomach cramps that come and go in waves. These waves bring hot flashes, searing pain and nauseau. It also gives you about a 10-20 second window to hobble your cramped up body to a toilet before your butt splurches. You must place yourself that must have walls or bars to hold on to.
Back to the story. I had been suffering for the crazy poos for quite a few days. I wasn't sure if my poor bum could take any more. I was so raw that I was now patting my poor bottom with scented baby wipes.
After days of this, I am at home with all of the kids doing something that I can't even remember. I was having a moment of peacefullness. I was just standing in my living room, staring out the giant picture window as the wind blew through the trees thinking of how it looked exactly like this when I was little. When....it....happened........
It hit quick this time. So quick that I didn't even know it happened. While staring out the window with a look of pure bliss on my face...I...farted.
Thought process in my head.
Hmmmmmmmmmm...
I didn't even know I had to toot.
That sure burned.
It's still burning!
Why is it still burning?
Is it burning on the inside or outside?
I think it's burning on the outside...
No
No
No
NOOOOO
There is no way this is happening again.
(I still have not moved from my blissful position at this point)
I then decide that I should check out the possible situation that could be escalating as the burning is spreading on the outside. I take off waddling up the stairs to keep it from smearing. Yep, smashed up carrots.
Why is this happening to me, God?
Can't you leave my poor butt alone for once.
I peel my clothing off and carefully step into the shower to wash my stinky butt. You would think that just pooping would make me gag. Nope, apparently I'm ok with the pooping part. But, I am not ok with washing my own butt when there is poo on it.
I won't go anymore into detail...ha ha ha...well, anymore than I already have. Ok, that sentence was ridiculous but I am going to leave it there cause it made me laugh.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)