Tag Archives: poop

A Mother’s Love is Not a Mother’s Like

23 Jun

I truly love my son.  I do.  I really love him.  The thing is…..there are times when I just don’t like him very much. 

The weight of the guilt I used to feel about this used to keep me up at night. I used to pray to be a better mom.  I prayed for patience, a lot.  I asked God to forgive me for being such a disgusting person.   I prayed that my very occasional dislike for Son was just a reaction to the Terrible 2’s or the Whiney 6 year-old Stage or the 14 year-old I Know Everything, You’re Just Stupid Stage. 

Then, I remember that I am merely human, and that it is totally ok to not like your kids sometimes.  I mean, let’s be honest here.  They can be total dickheads sometimes.  

Example 1

Your child is two months old.  It’s 7:00 p.m.  You haven’t had a full night’s sleep in approximately 40 days, but who’s counting?  Your baby has been bathed, diapered and fed.   You think to yourself, “This is the night.”  You can feel it.  Your baby is going to sleep through the night.  If you and Hubby can stay awake long enough, you might even get some. 

You kiss your baby’s beautiful little nose, turn out the light, and close the door.  Fifteen minutes later your baby is screaming so loud that your first instinct is to call 9-1-1, because obviously a Dingo is stealing your baby.  Your baby is up for the for the next 8 hours.  Crying.  For no reason.  You love your baby, but you don’t like him very much right now.

Example 2

Your child is 2 1/2 years-old.  You have to go to the grocery store.  Because you haven’t had a full night’s sleep in approximately 910 days, you’re not thinking clearly.  You decide to take your toddler with you. 

You’re flying through the store Supermarket Sweep style because your baby’s nap time is in about 5 minutes.  If he doesn’ t get his nap he turns into a little troll who will make you want to kill yourself.  You have about $800 worth of groceries in your cart, but you know you won’t be able to put a decent meal together with any of it because you didn’t have time to check your list.  You need to get the hell out of dodge. 

You’re in line to check out when your baby notices a red plastic squirt gun.  He wants it.  He tells you he wants it.  You say no.  His baby neck veins pop out.  He’s screaming.  You’re sure he’s going to hyperventilate.  He’s in full meltdown mode.  You leave your cart full of groceries at the checkout, and drag a screaming,  kicking child through the crowded parking lot.  You have cereal and hot dogs for dinner.  Love does not equal like.

Example 3

You’re exhausted from a long day at work.  Dinner has been served, dishes are done, and there is a box-o-wine in the fridge with your name on it.  Just as you sit down to enjoy a glass before heading to bed your 7 year-old informs you that her history project is due….tomorrow.  As you look over her assignment you realize your options are to either create an entire Indian village out of toothpicks, twine, and glitter or recreate the Battle of Gettysburg using leggos, firecrackers, food coloring, and toilet paper rolls. 

You’re up the entire night glueing glittler-covered tampons to toothpicks You’re a little drunk, but you’re pretty sure you don’t like your kid so much right now.

Example 4

It’s Monday.  It’s Summer vacation.  Before you go to work you leave a note for your 15 year-old kindly asking him to pick up the dirty underwear and socks that are hanging from the ceiling fan in his room, take the chicken out of the freezer, and let the dogs out once in a while.

You walk in the door at 5:15 P.M., to the shower running, the freezer door wide open, your puppy chewing on dirty boxers, every dish in the house dirtied and on your coffee table, dirty socks sitting on the entertainment center, ESPN blaring on the T.V., a freshly laid dog turd sitting in the middle of the livingroom, and a note that reads, “Mom, I need $20.00 and I’m suppose to sell 150 raffle tickets for football by Wednesday.”

So, yeah.  I don’t like my kid sometimes.

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What? Wednesday- Wild Man Cat Found on Subway

18 May

Back story (as made up by yours truly):  This guy thinks he’s a cat- a wild man cat.  He goes by the name of Muffins, and purrs when you shake his hand.   He also poops in a man-sized litter box.  He buys his litter in bulk.

Don’t worry, though.  He’s a classy man cat, and refuses to give himself a man cat bath in public.

But, he will clean his shoe.

Video via Buzzfeed.

Your Comments Make Me Better

6 May

As most of you know, I love reading your comments.  You guys are funny, and I love to laugh.  

Here are some of my all-time favorite spam comments:

Nolan Drehobl at Schley10951@gmail.com had this to say in response to my Lost in Translation post in which I talk about buttholes and Spanish accents:

I’m still studying from you, while I’m trying to reach my goals. I easily love reading all that is written on your blog. Keep the stories coming. I loved it!

Nolan, why are you studying buttholes from me?  I’m not an expert. I don’t really know much about my own butthole.  I don’ t feel comfortable teaching you about my anus.  I hope you reach your butthole goal, but you’re going to have to study from another ass master. Good luck, though.

Promotional items at aooce@aol.com was really impressed with my Earth Day post in which I make Mother Earth sound like a drunk floozy.  This is what Promotional Items had to say:

This is the perfect blog for anyone who wants to know about this topic. You know so much its almost hard to argue with you (not that I really would want…HaHa). You definitely put a new spin on a subject thats been written about for years. Great stuff, just great!

Thanks, Promotional Items!  Although I’m no anus expert, I do consider myself an Earth Day guru.  Also, punctuation much?  And, no, you wouldn’t want to argue with me.  I’d cut you.  (HaHa). 

Here’s a comment from Tnfgkgag at puqywd@nkinjc.com regarding my No Old Woman No Cry post in which I bitch about a night out with my sisters:

RNvHWl nnhusabgodsv, [url=http://lpypbmdiitrn.cadl/]lpypbmdiitrn[/url], [link=http://ibeqnwipijqq.cox/]ibeqnwipijqq[/link], http://dsntfsdlgordcom/

That may be true, Tnfgkgag.  Don’t forget, however, that an indefinite military presence isn’t very practical for long-term peace.  

Finally, here’s what Miami Beach Condos at Fukuda8@gmail.com (I like what you did there) said about my Excuse Me, I Have to Poop post about someone I was dying to get away from at party:

I just check the demographics of Miami dade Fl it looks like there less and less foreclosures every month . In 3 Years In febuary we finnally saw it be less than 1000 .

Excuse me, Miami Beach Condos, but I have to poop.

Know Your Triggers

2 May

*Here’s a little known secret about Yours Truly:  Libraries make me poop.

You don't say.

I can’t explain it.  If I’m in a library for more than five minutes, I gotta go.

Part of the mystery that is my poop trigger is that it doesn’t matter  if I use the restroom before I leave or when I arrive.  Five minutes+a library=Poop. 

 When I was in elementary school, the computer lab which stored our Commodore 64s was located in the library.  I was too young, then, to pinpoint my poop trigger, but my teacher was all over it.  Everyday on my way to the library my teacher would make sure I visited the little girl’s room.  It was all in vain, however.  Without fail, five minutes into class, I had to go. 

In high school I avoided taking study halls because they were located in the library.  The hump back librarian (she literally had a hump back) was not very subtle. Every bathroom pass she handed out was accompanied with the announcement:  “You have five minutes.”    I’m sorry, but you can’t rush such things.   So, I didn’t take study hall.  I instead opted for Spanish V, which I didn’t need. 

College was particularly challenging as I was a frequent visitor to the library, and it’s bathrooms.  My favorite study nook was located in the music section of the library next to a window that overlooked the lake.  The problem was that my preferred bathroom was on the 2nd floor (the toilets on the 3rd floor were weak flushers, and the locks on the stalls never worked). 

Everyday, I would unpack my backpack, set everything up just the way I like it,  and five minutes later I would pack everything up for my shameful dash to the 2nd floor.  This happened every day.  Frustrating.

On Saturday Son informed me 15 minutes before our public library was closing for the weekend that he needed to check out some books for a paper he will be working on this week.  I knew I could get him there in five minutes, but he would need my help if he was going to find all of his books before closing time.  That would take at least……………………five minutes.

I had no choice. If we were going to be successful I had to explain my poop trigger to Son.   I explained to him that he needed to be on his game, attentive, and thorough on his search for the books.  We agreed to divide his list, split up, and meet at the checkout desk in precisely five minutes.  (It should be noted that Son did not bat an eyelash.  He is used to my weirdness and likes a challenge).  We pulled into the parking lot, made a bet on who would be done first, and went our separate ways.

Our mission was successful. 

We were celebrating our awesomeness on our way out the door when I heard someone call my name.  *Stopped dead in my tracks*  It was an old teacher of mine.  I didn’t have time.  It wouldn’t take long for my body to realize where I was.  If I stayed and chatted the only thing I would have heard was “blah, blah, blah, I HAVE TO POOP, blah.”

Son saw the panic wash over me and…..this brings a tear to my eye….he saved me.  He politely interrupted, introduced himself, and with a wink reminded me that we had to get to the store before it closed.  With that, we were free to go, and I was very grateful. 

Am I teaching Son how to lie?  Yes.  Yes I am.  However,  I’m also teaching him to someday save his wife or girlfriend from having to talk to someone she hasn’t seen in years when she really has to poop.  I think that’s a very valuable lesson.

*This isn’t true at all.  In fact, I think a lot of people knew this about me.  It’s also now on the internet so it’s not really a secret anymore.  So, nevermind the “secret” part.

Please Don’t Poo-Poo The Spray

28 Mar
I started off the day in a very good mood.  It’s my workout recovery day which means I didn’t have to get up early for the gym, I got tons of sleep last night, and got ready for work in record time.  But, my day is slowly but surely going to shit, and it’s because I’m starting to believe that some people in my office think their shit doesn’t stink.  I don’t mean that figuratively.  I mean it literally.

My office is very small which means we have to share a bathroom.   What’s even worse is that my desk faces that bathroom.  Lately, it has become difficult for me to ignore the poop smell.  But, today?  Today I’m convinced that some people may have gotten together yesterday to watch basketball, eat some broccoli and asparagus chili, and drink coffee. 

Yes, we have air freshner available, but some people feel as though they don’t need to use it.   I personally don’t understand this as I am someone that will give a courtesy spray even if all I’m doing is washing my hands. 

Listen, the last thing I want to do is be the poo-poo po-po, but I am seriously considering some passive/aggressive retaliation. 

DID YOU SPRAY?! DID YOU?!

Perhaps some people really do think their poop smells likes roses.  If that’s the case, let me be the first to tell you that your poop smells very caca-like.  Not like roses at all.

Some may make the argument that air freshener makes the situation worse.  I think I speak for the other helpless victims in the office when I say we prefer the fresh scent of  poo-pouri over Chanel No. 2.   Please spray.

P.S.:  I can also hear the faucet running and am fully aware of whether or not you wash your hands.  We will never again shake hands, hi-five or thumb wrestle.  Ever.

Excuse Me, I Have to Poop

18 Mar

If you haven’t picked up on it yet, I’m generally in a constant state of annoyance.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’m a happy person, but I’m also easily annoyed by almost anything.  Here’s a list of a few things that take me from pleasant to pissy in less than 5 seconds:

  1. Rain (or any form of humidity) after I’ve sat in a salon for 2 hours getting a blowout.
  2. Getting up early to go to the gym.
  3. Pregnant pauses.
  4. Forward emails.
  5. Many, many, many more things.
  6. *NEW The sentence finisher.

I recently met someone who, although I’m sure is a nice person, I will never know for sure because I will never speak to her again.  She’s the Sentence Finisher.  Let me explain.

We were having a discussion about our teenagers.  Things started off ok.  Then, we started talking about curfews.  I said:

Nothing good can happen after midnight. 

As I said the last two words of the sentence, “after midnight”, I noticed that Sentence Finisher said them along with me, three octaves higher.  She sang them more than she said them.  “Aaaaafter Midniiiiight.”

Ok, that was weird.  Whatever.  We continued our conversation.  I said:

I think the driving age should be bumped up to 18.  I had no business driving when I was 16.

As I said “when I was 16” Sentence Finisher chimed in (literally), “When I was sixteeeeeeeeen”.  This time she opera-sang “16” so loudly and so high that I had to look around and silently assure everyone in the room that I didn’t have Sentence Finisher in a headlock.

This continued for the next five minutes until I came up with the excuse that the meal we had just shared wasn’t agreeing with me, and excused myself to use the restroom.  In order to get away from her I resorted to the “I have to poop” excuse.   Basically, I would rather this woman picture me pooping than think of me as someone she can talk to. 

I’m an a-hole.

P.S.  I was tempted to say “I’m a tool!” just so I could hear her sing “I’m a toooooooool!”