I hope that I am not the only one that has the occassional day where you have to drop a few* F-bombs, cry it out, drink warm white wine directly from the bottle and clean up shit. Literally. Well, most people probably manage to avoid the shit part, but since I tend to go all out when I do something, I can't forget that important piece of the story.
I know that I have fallen way behind with my blogging and for the most part I have a good excuse*, but I want to be able to blog the really funny shit that happens to me and recently my good belly-busting laugh stories have been at a minimum. Well, that was until last Wednesday . . .
Around 5:15pm I am in the drive-thru of the local drug store when my mom-in-law calls. Rob is sleeping, Jake is pooping and whining that he is very hungry and well my friends, it's time for Mama to get her ass home. Ten minutes later I arrive at the gates of Hades . . . oops, home and the shit is everywhere. Again, literally.
My mom-in-law greets me at the door with sad puppy eyes and is clutching one of my cute springy couch pillows. Instead of her typical "Hi Honey, how was your day?"*, she gives me: "I think I created a problem. A BIG problem." She then turns the pillow over and it is covered in . . . oh you guessed it! SHIT!
Ok, time for a little back story. My almost 6 year old son suffers from chronic constipation, encopresis and fructose intolerence. Basically, there is a lot of poop talk in our house. The typical*: "Did you go at school today? Was it a big one? Does your belly hurt? What did the poop look like? Try harder to get it out, ok? Did you take your medicine?" and so forth and so on. This also means there are lots of accidents. I am thinking we should buy stock in underwear and toilet paper.
Well, my dear mom-in-law was dealing with Jake battling another impaction, thus several accidents. She had piled all the poop laden clothing at the top of the stairs to go down for laundry. At that very moment Jake had another crisis* and she became destracted. After the crisis was diverted, she came downstairs to find Izzy dining on Poop Ala Mode on the couch pillow. For the weak stomached of you, now is the time to STOP READING . . . the rest of you brave souls may carry on. Yes, dearest sweet innocent puppy has Jake's underwear on the couch and is eating the shit right out of it. Meanwhile the shit is getting all over the pillow and her fur and stuck in her teeth and on the very tongue that licks my face.*
Ok, so pillow is lost. I can deal with a lost pillow. Acutally two pillows are lost because the set is a goner.* I clean up Izzy's teeth and hair.
Now, I head upstairs. Sick hubby is sleeping, mom-in-law heads downstairs to wash out the remaining fecal matter, Jake is back on the toilet and playing the ipad*, and Izzy is laying low on the couch. Then, Izzy hears or sees something outside and begins her tough dog* bark. I yell* at her, but she is relentless and won't stop. I go to run downstairs to stop her and it happens. I had on pantyhose, so my feet were slippery and the soft carpet of the stairs equaled a dangerous combination. My feet shot out from under me and I rode my ass down the stairs in a speed similar to that of Chevy Chase in Christmas Vacation on the sledding hill. OMG the pain. Thank the good Lord above that my staircase only has 6 steps because my right buttcheek became closely acquanited with each one. Now, for those of you wonderful people* that have never seen me, I am not a little person* and that impact wasn't pleasant for me or the stairs. I have an 8" X 3" bruise* across my buttock* and boy is it sore. What was more upsetting than the pain was the fact that no one in my house, all 4 other beating hearts, didn't come to help me. They all claim they heard nothing.* Trust me, the thuds my body made along with my crying and cussing was probably heard in the next county. I give Isabella* a break. After all, had her little 12 pound body been on the staircase during the fall she would have been crushed. At this point she just wanted to survive. So, after about 30 seconds of laying at the bottom of the stairs crying, I got up and cried. Hey, don't judge, getting up was a huge accomplishment at this time. I leaned on the ledge in my foyer and whined, rather loudly, how bad my life sucked and rubbed my own ass. Still, no one came to check on me or help me or listen to me whine. At that point I ripped off my panty hose, because afterall it was all their fault, pulled up my big girl panties and dealt with it. Oh,* and then I walked to the wine rack, grabbed the only bottle with a screw on cap, opened it, and chugged warm white wine from the bottle. I am a mom and a wife and that is what I have to do everyday. Damnit!
* Okay maybe a few hundred
* My closest friends and family can verify
* She really does say that in the cutest little sincere voice
* Totally typical for us
* Remember he is 6, crisis is relative
* Shiver. I shall pretend this never happened.
* Those pillows will never be considered clean again. No way ! No how!
* Forget reading magazines on the toilet, this is game time!
* She is a big dog trapped in the cutest little body
* Again possibly an appropriate time to use an F-Bomb or two or three
* God bless you for taking the time to read this.
* Big and beautiful, baby!
* I have pictures if you want to see
* I imagine Forest Gump talking to the President everytime I say buttocks
* I call bullshit
* Granted she is still in trouble for eating shit
* This is classic
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