The Straight Poop

I'm sure you were all waiting and wondering to hear exactly which child had diarrhea and the outcome of 13 hours in a vehicle.

Or maybe that's just me.

It was Jamie and he did just fine. We had lots of extra bathroom stops for him that first day but it was okay.

We did however insist he wear a pull-up for the trip. This deeply wounded his fully potty-trained four year old big boy sensibilities.

But I figure insurance can pay for his therapy someday. My van seats are leather dammit.

Y'all Don't Come Back Now Y'hear

Somewhere in South Carolina we stopped for lunch on the way to Myrtle Beach.

Did you ever realize AFTER you've sat down to eat that maybe, just maybe, it's not such a great place to be? It could have been the lack of a changing table in the rest room. It could have been the fact that it struck me as a little odd that McDonald's was adjoining with one of those "Paycheck Advance" places. Maybe even the way everyone turned and looked at us funny. If nothing else the little kids wearing Kevlar and gun holsters in the Playplace should have tipped us off.

But we needed caffeine and the kids needed food and a place to stretch so we stuck around.

Around the same time that the alarm went off on our van, a boy in the Playplace began bullying Sabrina and I called it quits and said it was time to leave.

Jamie however refused to come out of the tower slide. This is not unusual. On more than one occasion I have had to haul my way-too-big-for-those-climbing-tubes ass up to the top to retrieve him. But within seconds he came charging back down.

I asked him what he was doing and he said "Really Mama, I just told that big boy 'You have to let my sister have a turn!'"

That bigger boy could have just flicked him away like a tiny little fly, but my little boy won't stand for any perceived injustice. I've never been so proud of my little guy.

If anyone is going to push his big sister around HE will do the pushing thank you very much.

I Wasn't Aware It Required Special Footwear

Snippets

Look Sabrina! There is the sign that says we have just entered West Virginia!

"Wow! Do they speak English here?"

Technically, yes.

Are We There Yet?

It happened so briefly I had to capture it on film.

What Was I Thinking?

I am about to embark on a 12 hour road trip to Myrtle Beach. Add in roughly 5 extra hours for bathroom breaks, stretch breaks, snack breaks, and Mommy needs to go hyperventilate in a nice quiet stall breaks.

With three kids ages 6, 4, and 1.

And one of them has diarrhea.

With my penchant for poop, this should give me plenty of writing material when I get back.

Good times.

Definitely Not A Cheerio

I'm going to come clean so to speak and just admit right up front that I am no domestic goddess. In fact my housekeeping skills could best be described as "lackadaisical". That old saying "A lick and a promise"? That about sums me up. But 9 times out of 10 the licking is done by the dog. She's handy that way.

But dog notwithstanding, with 3 children, our house tends to be liberally sprinkled with, well, stuff. Graham crackers, potato chip crumbs, various breakfast cereals, and pieces of whatever Jamie was supposed to be eating while sitting at the table all seem to be scattered about like jimmies on a cupcake.

Meredith, like most toddlers, likes to put things in her mouth. We're pretty good at making sure that she doesn't find coins, Barbie shoes, or rubber bands before we do, but actual edibles we don't worry too much about. While I realize it's not ideal for the one year old to be eating things off the floor, I'm not going to lose sleep over the random cracker. Besides, it keeps her from eating the carpet lint and dust bunnies.

She has begun to realize that there are certain things we do not want her to put in her mouth. And she has an endearing habit of showing me the things she's picked up off the floor before she eats it. It doesn't mean she actually wants me to have it. In fact she gets quite offended when I do remove one of her finds from her grubby little fist. But if she's showing me, oh, say a Cheerio that she tossed from her high chair a few hours ago, I'm not going to go ballistic prying it from her grip.

So today she was happily wandering the kitchen pulling Tupperware out of the cabinets while I kept half an eye on her as I perused my email. She has a nasty diaper rash at the moment so I was giving her some fresh air bare-bum time sans diaper.

She approached my chair with her left hand outstretched, fingers in the pincer grasp position, proclaiming her usual "Eennh" which loosely translated, means "Look Mom. Look what I have."

Still only half looking and half reading I reached out and patronizingly sing-songed at her "THANK YOU!".

The texture penetrated the synapses of my brain only slightly before the smell hit my nostrils and I processed exactly what it was she was handing me.

I am sad to admit that Taffy was quite disappointed that I did not allow her to clean that up.

Makes Me Long To Be Single Again

Conversation overheard at the mall yesterday:

Girl 1: "He did call! He calls me all the time!

Girl 2: "Really? Like the same day?"

Girl 1: "But I never answer. I always let it go to voice mail so I have his voice recorded on my phone."


[Brief pause so I may turn my head and retch]


Girl 2: "Awwww that's so SWEET! What does he say?"

Girl 1: "Oh he just leaves normal messages. How cool is that?"

Girl 2: "That is so cool."

Girl 1: "Yeah and he's not even drunk when he does it!"

Cold Case - Solved

Like most people I keep a cleaning brush for my toilet bowl in my bathroom. And like most people I like to keep it discreetly tucked away.

Because no matter how nice and clean and white that brush looks EVERYONE knows where it's been and what it's been doing and well, just, eeeeeeew.

I have mine in a small container that's meant to be, if not decorative, then at least subtle. It's shaped like a tall blue vase and the brush handle goes through a blue disc that serves as a lid to this "vase." Thereby tucking the brush out of sight and also closing off the top so the only evidence of the actual purpose of this item is an unobtrusive silver handle.

A few months back I took the brush out to use it and when I went to replace it in its holder I noticed a noxious liquid in it. At the time I just sort of scratched my head (strictly figuratively; I made sure to wash my hands before touching myself anywhere after that task), dumped the liquid in the toilet and rinsed out the container.

But in light of recent events, and bathtub confessions, light has dawned upon the darkened mind.

I believe we have not only discovered the origins of the liquid, but also the small male perpetrator.