My husband e-mailed this article to me Friday. I was completely outraged. Why in the world was this woman made to remove her nipple rings? It's completely absurd. Finding out the cause of a hand wand going off, sure. Once it was evident that the rings were the cause, what was the point in removing them?
I work for FedEx and I have my tongue pierced as well as my left nipple and have never set off the alarm at work. They have even used the wand, and luckily I have never set the thing off. I honestly didn't think there was enough metal to detect. I guess I was wrong, or the airport detectors are a lot stronger than the ones at work.
I don't believe I have flown since I got my piercings, but now I don't know that I will. You know what, I take that back. If I got singled out and that wand went off on me, I would just start stripping my shirt and bra off. "You want to see if I'm hiding a bomb under my tits? Well here you go!" That, or something like this, maybe.
It's just sad that we have "rules" that people blindly follow, no matter how absurd, or how much they defy common sense. I truly do feel for that woman. It can be extremely painful to take the rings out and there is no way in hell I would do it with a pair of pliers.
There are people out there, I know, that have metal in their bodies for various reasons. Pins, plates, and such. When those set off metal detectors and the area is searched they have to assume you don't have anything else. No knives stuffed behind that metal knee cap. No bombs embedded into that metal pin inside your leg. What in the world did making that woman take those rings out accomplish, other than allowing a couple of dickheads to get off on a woman who has her nipples pierced? A visual inspection should have sufficed. Period.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
The Other Part of Potty Training
As a mom you relish the thought of that wonderful day when you no longer have to change diapers. The day they finally "get it". You think it will never happen. You spend long amounts of time in the bathroom anxiously awaiting just a dribble in the potty so you can jump and down and make a very large production out of your child's bodily functions. Never again in their little lives will someone ever be so excited about their poop.
While the excitement of no more diapers is a grand thing, there still is one more little task to potty training. You must teach them to wipe. Seems simple enough. You would be mistaken.
This process lasts quite a little while. At first you do it yourself all the time. I mean, their little arms just aren't long enough to adequately get the job done. Not to mention, that if you give a three year old free reign over the toilet paper, you will have a stopped up toilet. Gradually you try to show them proper technique. With girls, off course, there is more "area" to be careful of. With the boy it's a matter of not getting poop on his little jewels or up his back. I'm not having much luck teaching him, I will be honest.
One particular morning I was awakened from a nap by the all too familiar, "Momma, I poop-ed." I write it this way because he emphasizes the ed. He says it like you would say phys ed, like it's two words. I, without thinking, and a little agitated at being woke up, tell him to wipe himself. I knew as soon as I said it that it wasn't a good idea just yet and got up to do the deed myself.
Later that same afternoon I was sitting outside and I hear giggles from Gracie and her friend. I ask her what is so funny, and she says, "Look."
I turn around to see Colin with a long stream of toilet paper in his hand, waving in the breeze. With his pants and underwear around his ankles, he hollers, "Momma, I wiped my butt!"
Oh, good Lord, he chooses now to listen to me. I guess you can't pick your moments.
While the excitement of no more diapers is a grand thing, there still is one more little task to potty training. You must teach them to wipe. Seems simple enough. You would be mistaken.
This process lasts quite a little while. At first you do it yourself all the time. I mean, their little arms just aren't long enough to adequately get the job done. Not to mention, that if you give a three year old free reign over the toilet paper, you will have a stopped up toilet. Gradually you try to show them proper technique. With girls, off course, there is more "area" to be careful of. With the boy it's a matter of not getting poop on his little jewels or up his back. I'm not having much luck teaching him, I will be honest.
One particular morning I was awakened from a nap by the all too familiar, "Momma, I poop-ed." I write it this way because he emphasizes the ed. He says it like you would say phys ed, like it's two words. I, without thinking, and a little agitated at being woke up, tell him to wipe himself. I knew as soon as I said it that it wasn't a good idea just yet and got up to do the deed myself.
Later that same afternoon I was sitting outside and I hear giggles from Gracie and her friend. I ask her what is so funny, and she says, "Look."
I turn around to see Colin with a long stream of toilet paper in his hand, waving in the breeze. With his pants and underwear around his ankles, he hollers, "Momma, I wiped my butt!"
Oh, good Lord, he chooses now to listen to me. I guess you can't pick your moments.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Happy Birthday Sarah
Sarah B turned 5 years old today. Where has the time gone? It seems only a short time ago I was impatiently waiting for her to be born.
Sarah was 2 days late. That was the longest 2 days of my life. I was convinced at that point that I would be pregnant forever. In that line of thinking, I decided it would be perfectly ok to go see my sister at her work. They all loved to see Gracie and I was bored and aggravated at staying at the house.
We arrived at her workplace and while Gracie was visiting and my sister ate her lunch I sat down in her chair. I bent over to put my purse on the floor and felt a "pop"........then a gush. Oh, yes. My water had broken. This was at 12:30 in the afternoon.
My sister comes back to her desk, and a rather large puddle. She says, "Are you shitting me?" I said, "Well, I didn't pee in my pants, if that's what you are wondering." Time to go.
We gather some water proof pads, (she works in a Dr. office) and off we go. By the time we got to the car, contractions were very hard. All my sister kept saying was "Mandie, please don't have that baby in the car. Please wait til we get the hospital. You know I don't want to see that." I had Gracie with me and I was trying very hard not to scare her to death. Luckily she fell asleep on the way to the hospital.
I called Brandon and told him to come to the hospital NOW. He apparently had a car full of people with him for lunch and had to take them back to his office before he came to hospital. Knowing him, that was the scariest ride those poor people ever took.
We got to the hospital at about 1. I asked my sister to take Gracie to the waiting room. I knew this wouldn't be pretty. I had decided ahead of time that I would have Sarah naturally, no drugs, just like Gracie. The nurse came in and tried to start an IV for fluids, but was having no luck. She would just start to stick the needle in and a contraction would hit. I was most definitely not being still, so that took quite a bit of time.
Brandon finally came and I was so relieved and happy to see him. Before I knew it, I was pushing. She got to a certain point though and I lost all control. When I had Gracie, I don't think I pushed for maybe 10 minutes and she came rocketing out. Sarah was an entirely different experience. This hurt, BAD. I couldn't push her out. I would try, but she would just start to poke her little head out and I froze; back in she would go. I just wanted to cross my legs and forget the whole thing. Make it go away. The doctor was getting very frustrated at me, and I wanted them to just get her out. I didn't know how I was going to do this. I was scared.
I mustered everything in my body and gave it what I could and at 1:58 she was born. All 8 lbs and 2 oz of her. Roughly an hour and a half after my water had broken. That had to be some sort of record. Poor Sarah paid for it though, coming so quickly. Her little face was so bruised and she also had a broken clavicle. The pediatrician said it was fairly common but I couldn't help but blame myself. If I had just sucked it up and pushed her out maybe she wouldn't have been so banged up.
The guilt faded and time has marched on. She has paid me back in spades for her birth. She is stubborn, willful, and pushes my buttons. She is quite a tough little girl. She also has a spirit about her though. To end I will share a conversation she and her little brother had in the van this morning.
They were piling in the van to go to school, and Colin turns to Sarah and says, "Sarah you farted."
Sarah says very matter of fact, "Colin, no I didn't. It's my birthday. Birthday people don't fart."
Sarah was 2 days late. That was the longest 2 days of my life. I was convinced at that point that I would be pregnant forever. In that line of thinking, I decided it would be perfectly ok to go see my sister at her work. They all loved to see Gracie and I was bored and aggravated at staying at the house.
We arrived at her workplace and while Gracie was visiting and my sister ate her lunch I sat down in her chair. I bent over to put my purse on the floor and felt a "pop"........then a gush. Oh, yes. My water had broken. This was at 12:30 in the afternoon.
My sister comes back to her desk, and a rather large puddle. She says, "Are you shitting me?" I said, "Well, I didn't pee in my pants, if that's what you are wondering." Time to go.
We gather some water proof pads, (she works in a Dr. office) and off we go. By the time we got to the car, contractions were very hard. All my sister kept saying was "Mandie, please don't have that baby in the car. Please wait til we get the hospital. You know I don't want to see that." I had Gracie with me and I was trying very hard not to scare her to death. Luckily she fell asleep on the way to the hospital.
I called Brandon and told him to come to the hospital NOW. He apparently had a car full of people with him for lunch and had to take them back to his office before he came to hospital. Knowing him, that was the scariest ride those poor people ever took.
We got to the hospital at about 1. I asked my sister to take Gracie to the waiting room. I knew this wouldn't be pretty. I had decided ahead of time that I would have Sarah naturally, no drugs, just like Gracie. The nurse came in and tried to start an IV for fluids, but was having no luck. She would just start to stick the needle in and a contraction would hit. I was most definitely not being still, so that took quite a bit of time.
Brandon finally came and I was so relieved and happy to see him. Before I knew it, I was pushing. She got to a certain point though and I lost all control. When I had Gracie, I don't think I pushed for maybe 10 minutes and she came rocketing out. Sarah was an entirely different experience. This hurt, BAD. I couldn't push her out. I would try, but she would just start to poke her little head out and I froze; back in she would go. I just wanted to cross my legs and forget the whole thing. Make it go away. The doctor was getting very frustrated at me, and I wanted them to just get her out. I didn't know how I was going to do this. I was scared.
I mustered everything in my body and gave it what I could and at 1:58 she was born. All 8 lbs and 2 oz of her. Roughly an hour and a half after my water had broken. That had to be some sort of record. Poor Sarah paid for it though, coming so quickly. Her little face was so bruised and she also had a broken clavicle. The pediatrician said it was fairly common but I couldn't help but blame myself. If I had just sucked it up and pushed her out maybe she wouldn't have been so banged up.
The guilt faded and time has marched on. She has paid me back in spades for her birth. She is stubborn, willful, and pushes my buttons. She is quite a tough little girl. She also has a spirit about her though. To end I will share a conversation she and her little brother had in the van this morning.
They were piling in the van to go to school, and Colin turns to Sarah and says, "Sarah you farted."
Sarah says very matter of fact, "Colin, no I didn't. It's my birthday. Birthday people don't fart."
Monday, March 17, 2008
My Weekend Vacation
Well, it came and went so very quickly. I had my spa vacation this weekend. I went here, and it was fabulous.
I started my weekend at about 3:30 on Friday afternoon. My dear mother-in-law came to watch the kids until Brandon came home so I could leave early. I had to drive to his work to swap vehicles so he would have the mom taxi for the weekend.
I checked into the hotel and it was like an out of body experience. Was I really doing this? Was this really happening? I didn't know what to do. Do I shop? Do I drive? Do I sleep? Do I watch dirty movies on HBO? There were none on by the way.
I was truly alone with my thoughts, feelings, my little chocolate donuts, a box of Rosemary and Olive Oil Triscuits and Dr. Pepper. All to myself. No little fingers grabbing at my food. No little voices interrupting me just before I take a bite, saying "Momma, I'm thirsty. Momma, can I have a bite? Momma, I'm hungry. Momma, can I play on the computer? MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA!!!!!"
It is still the season of Lent for us Catholics so no meat on Fridays for another week. My options were limited for dinner. I decided on a cheese pizza and crazy bread from Little Caesar's. It was delicious. I ate in my bed, I watched what I wanted on TV (still no dirty movies), and began to feel myself unwind. I also thought. A lot. It's amazing how much thinking you can do when you aren't interrupted. I mean, I got to actually COMPLETE thoughts. This nearly made my brain overload.
Of course we had storms that night. I was awakened at 4:00 am by the sound of thunder and the brightness of lightning. I flipped on the TV to make sure I wasn't about to be taken to Oz, and tried to doze back off. Wasn't happening. I forced myself to stay in bed til 6 then got up and colored my hair. What else is there to do at 6 am?
My spa appointment was at 9 but it was right down the street from the hotel. I arrived at 8:45 and thus began my spa day.
You arrive, and they direct you into this nice little bathroom with little wooden lockers to put your things in, including your clothes. Yep, they want you nekked in a robe and slippers. It is supposed to make you comfortable while you "enjoy your day at the spa." All fine and good except that when you go into the quiet room to await your treatment, you are sitting there in a robe and slippers with complete strangers. I was constantly readjusting, and grasping at my robe, making sure nothing was hanging out. Not the most relaxing way to start your day. I guess that's why they offered me wine at 9 in the morning.
First the massage. Wow! It wasn't at all what I expected. This woman really knew her stuff. It wasn't so much kneading on me as it was pressure. Her hands were very soft, but strong. She knew exactly the points on my back and neck that needed what kind of pressure. I have never had a professional massage and this was heaven. I would highly recommend it.
On to the facial. Not the best half hour at the spa. She started out rubbing this "scent" (and I use that term loosely) on her hands and asked me to inhale slowly and then breathe out. This shit stunk. It was meant to relax me but all I could think about was "Where is the cat and what corner did he piss in?" It was that bad. Some of the creams were nice, and they did make my face very soft and hydrated. I think I will skip that next time and get an extra half hour on the massage instead.
On to the pedicure. She helped me to pick out my color and then I was lead to a chair that felt more like a throne. I was seated well above her with a little bath to stick my feet in. She began working on my feet. She rubbed and massaged my feet. She took this stone out and rubbed all the rough spots off. My feet were so soft and relaxed. This was awesome, except there happened to be a woman sitting beside me also getting a pedicure and she would not shut the hell up. She talked the entire time I was there. She was one of those that loved to toot her own horn, so to speak. She was an elementary school teacher and let me tell you, she was the BEST school teacher EVER. Her kids behaved the best, and they learned the most, and she taught the best. Blah, blah, blah, blah.
Last but not least, was the manicure. I got life lessons on eating, exercising, pesticides in your food, and a distilled water and sea salt mixture that will make you have the best shit of your entire life. She swore this to me. If you want the specific measurements, please e-mail and I will gladly tell you.
I left the spa that day feeling refreshed, educated, and so very glad I had the experience. I can't wait til next year.
I started my weekend at about 3:30 on Friday afternoon. My dear mother-in-law came to watch the kids until Brandon came home so I could leave early. I had to drive to his work to swap vehicles so he would have the mom taxi for the weekend.
I checked into the hotel and it was like an out of body experience. Was I really doing this? Was this really happening? I didn't know what to do. Do I shop? Do I drive? Do I sleep? Do I watch dirty movies on HBO? There were none on by the way.
I was truly alone with my thoughts, feelings, my little chocolate donuts, a box of Rosemary and Olive Oil Triscuits and Dr. Pepper. All to myself. No little fingers grabbing at my food. No little voices interrupting me just before I take a bite, saying "Momma, I'm thirsty. Momma, can I have a bite? Momma, I'm hungry. Momma, can I play on the computer? MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA!!!!!"
It is still the season of Lent for us Catholics so no meat on Fridays for another week. My options were limited for dinner. I decided on a cheese pizza and crazy bread from Little Caesar's. It was delicious. I ate in my bed, I watched what I wanted on TV (still no dirty movies), and began to feel myself unwind. I also thought. A lot. It's amazing how much thinking you can do when you aren't interrupted. I mean, I got to actually COMPLETE thoughts. This nearly made my brain overload.
Of course we had storms that night. I was awakened at 4:00 am by the sound of thunder and the brightness of lightning. I flipped on the TV to make sure I wasn't about to be taken to Oz, and tried to doze back off. Wasn't happening. I forced myself to stay in bed til 6 then got up and colored my hair. What else is there to do at 6 am?
My spa appointment was at 9 but it was right down the street from the hotel. I arrived at 8:45 and thus began my spa day.
You arrive, and they direct you into this nice little bathroom with little wooden lockers to put your things in, including your clothes. Yep, they want you nekked in a robe and slippers. It is supposed to make you comfortable while you "enjoy your day at the spa." All fine and good except that when you go into the quiet room to await your treatment, you are sitting there in a robe and slippers with complete strangers. I was constantly readjusting, and grasping at my robe, making sure nothing was hanging out. Not the most relaxing way to start your day. I guess that's why they offered me wine at 9 in the morning.
First the massage. Wow! It wasn't at all what I expected. This woman really knew her stuff. It wasn't so much kneading on me as it was pressure. Her hands were very soft, but strong. She knew exactly the points on my back and neck that needed what kind of pressure. I have never had a professional massage and this was heaven. I would highly recommend it.
On to the facial. Not the best half hour at the spa. She started out rubbing this "scent" (and I use that term loosely) on her hands and asked me to inhale slowly and then breathe out. This shit stunk. It was meant to relax me but all I could think about was "Where is the cat and what corner did he piss in?" It was that bad. Some of the creams were nice, and they did make my face very soft and hydrated. I think I will skip that next time and get an extra half hour on the massage instead.
On to the pedicure. She helped me to pick out my color and then I was lead to a chair that felt more like a throne. I was seated well above her with a little bath to stick my feet in. She began working on my feet. She rubbed and massaged my feet. She took this stone out and rubbed all the rough spots off. My feet were so soft and relaxed. This was awesome, except there happened to be a woman sitting beside me also getting a pedicure and she would not shut the hell up. She talked the entire time I was there. She was one of those that loved to toot her own horn, so to speak. She was an elementary school teacher and let me tell you, she was the BEST school teacher EVER. Her kids behaved the best, and they learned the most, and she taught the best. Blah, blah, blah, blah.
Last but not least, was the manicure. I got life lessons on eating, exercising, pesticides in your food, and a distilled water and sea salt mixture that will make you have the best shit of your entire life. She swore this to me. If you want the specific measurements, please e-mail and I will gladly tell you.
I left the spa that day feeling refreshed, educated, and so very glad I had the experience. I can't wait til next year.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
I Got Nothin
What a boring week! Nothing going on here. Not a single thing. I am desperately trying to hang on to my sanity until my weekend getaway.
Spring break is this week so I have all three at home 24/7. Gracie tends to bug the ever loving shit out of Sarah and Colin so I have that added fun. She knows their little buttons and she pushes them constantly. I am always having to intervene between her and one or the other.
Colin has turned into quite the little computer player. My husband has Super Mario Brothers on the computer and he has already mastered the first two levels. He is definitely not the outdoors type. We went to the park today and after about 10 minutes he was ready to go back home and play his games.
Sarah is getting in trouble constantly. She seems to be going through a phase where she just doesn't want to listen and is, I think, trying to get into trouble. I'm not sure how to handle her right now. She is so stubborn. I'm trying to be consistent but that child is trying me.
I hope to go back to work next Monday. I have my last physical therapy appointment on Thursday and then back to the Dr. on Friday.
My mood is improving due to the fantastic weather we are having here. I love, love, love this time of year. It rejuvenates me to be able to go out on the porch and have the sun in my face, burning slightly. Listening to the sounds of spring puts me in another place. The birds singing, a lawnmower, the kids outside playing, there is something comforting in a way about them.
Maybe more next time.
Spring break is this week so I have all three at home 24/7. Gracie tends to bug the ever loving shit out of Sarah and Colin so I have that added fun. She knows their little buttons and she pushes them constantly. I am always having to intervene between her and one or the other.
Colin has turned into quite the little computer player. My husband has Super Mario Brothers on the computer and he has already mastered the first two levels. He is definitely not the outdoors type. We went to the park today and after about 10 minutes he was ready to go back home and play his games.
Sarah is getting in trouble constantly. She seems to be going through a phase where she just doesn't want to listen and is, I think, trying to get into trouble. I'm not sure how to handle her right now. She is so stubborn. I'm trying to be consistent but that child is trying me.
I hope to go back to work next Monday. I have my last physical therapy appointment on Thursday and then back to the Dr. on Friday.
My mood is improving due to the fantastic weather we are having here. I love, love, love this time of year. It rejuvenates me to be able to go out on the porch and have the sun in my face, burning slightly. Listening to the sounds of spring puts me in another place. The birds singing, a lawnmower, the kids outside playing, there is something comforting in a way about them.
Maybe more next time.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
PT
I went to my first physical therapy appointment yesterday. I didn't really know what to expect. I had only been once before, and that was my senior year in high school after ankle surgery. That was not a pleasant experience, as I recall.
After lots and lots of paperwork we got started. She had me to get on a stationary bike for 10 minutes. No big deal, right? Wrong! I never thought that a bike seat could be comfortable or uncomfortable. This thing was downright painful.
Folks, I don't have a bony butt but this seat made it feel like I was sitting directly on my butt bone. I could not get comfortable and with every passing minute I knew I would pay for it later. Sure enough, this morning it hurts to sit down.
The other exercises were quite mild. Nothing painful. Leg lifts, and some twisting and turning. Then the end. The glorious end when I got to relax on a nicely heated pad with little electrodes on my back.
I had heard of these things before but never had it done. They put these little stickers on the area to be worked on with little wires attached to them, and hook it up to a machine. She told me to lay down, get comfortable and let her know when I felt it start to tingle.
Tingle? What in the.....Oh. Let me tell you it is a strange sensation that I can not put into words. The muscles under those little pads get to jumping and they adjust the machine to the intensity that you prefer. I asked her how I would know when enough is enough. She simply said "You know."
She was right. Too much, and I nearly jumped off the table. My back is super, super, ticklish. My husband can think about tickling my back and I shudder.
She got it just right, and for 15 minutes I was in heaven. My feet propped up, my back on heat, nothing to do but relax.
I want to move in there.
After lots and lots of paperwork we got started. She had me to get on a stationary bike for 10 minutes. No big deal, right? Wrong! I never thought that a bike seat could be comfortable or uncomfortable. This thing was downright painful.
Folks, I don't have a bony butt but this seat made it feel like I was sitting directly on my butt bone. I could not get comfortable and with every passing minute I knew I would pay for it later. Sure enough, this morning it hurts to sit down.
The other exercises were quite mild. Nothing painful. Leg lifts, and some twisting and turning. Then the end. The glorious end when I got to relax on a nicely heated pad with little electrodes on my back.
I had heard of these things before but never had it done. They put these little stickers on the area to be worked on with little wires attached to them, and hook it up to a machine. She told me to lay down, get comfortable and let her know when I felt it start to tingle.
Tingle? What in the.....Oh. Let me tell you it is a strange sensation that I can not put into words. The muscles under those little pads get to jumping and they adjust the machine to the intensity that you prefer. I asked her how I would know when enough is enough. She simply said "You know."
She was right. Too much, and I nearly jumped off the table. My back is super, super, ticklish. My husband can think about tickling my back and I shudder.
She got it just right, and for 15 minutes I was in heaven. My feet propped up, my back on heat, nothing to do but relax.
I want to move in there.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Vacation, Mommy Style
Folks, I am counting down the days until my vacation. This will be a truly monumental day for me. I am going on vacation. Alone. Not with my husband, not with kids, not even with a friend. All by my lonesome. I know what you are thinking. "What did she have to do to get her husband to go along with this?" Truth is, he is actually encouraging me to go, and even spend money. I love you B!!
This will not be a traditional vacation. It started out as such though. I was going to go to Hot Springs and spend a few days at a spa. I waited too late though and all the hotels and spas were booked solid for quite a few weeks to come. I also got to thinking. I have never spent a night alone, actually alone, in my entire life. I went straight from my parents house to marriage. Brandon didn't have a job that required travel until after we had kids.
I also didn't really like the idea of being in unfamiliar territory by myself. I had visions of driving in circles for hours looking for my hotel after a run to Wal-Mart for some Dr. Pepper and lots of salty and sweet treats. Having to call Brandon from 3 hours away crying because I was lost was not an image I was crazy about. What can I say, I like familiar and safe.
In light of all that, I decided to check out local spas. I found one, with a hotel right down the street from it. It offers all the things that the spas in Hot Springs offered and I wouldn't be out of element so to speak. I will check in on a Friday, after Brandon gets home from work (unless I can talk someone into babysitting until he gets home), go to the spa on Saturday, spend another night in the hotel, and come home Sunday.
It's been a very needed weekend for a very long time. I hope to come back in a better frame of mind, a little more relaxed, and ready to tackle daily life again.
This will not be a traditional vacation. It started out as such though. I was going to go to Hot Springs and spend a few days at a spa. I waited too late though and all the hotels and spas were booked solid for quite a few weeks to come. I also got to thinking. I have never spent a night alone, actually alone, in my entire life. I went straight from my parents house to marriage. Brandon didn't have a job that required travel until after we had kids.
I also didn't really like the idea of being in unfamiliar territory by myself. I had visions of driving in circles for hours looking for my hotel after a run to Wal-Mart for some Dr. Pepper and lots of salty and sweet treats. Having to call Brandon from 3 hours away crying because I was lost was not an image I was crazy about. What can I say, I like familiar and safe.
In light of all that, I decided to check out local spas. I found one, with a hotel right down the street from it. It offers all the things that the spas in Hot Springs offered and I wouldn't be out of element so to speak. I will check in on a Friday, after Brandon gets home from work (unless I can talk someone into babysitting until he gets home), go to the spa on Saturday, spend another night in the hotel, and come home Sunday.
It's been a very needed weekend for a very long time. I hope to come back in a better frame of mind, a little more relaxed, and ready to tackle daily life again.
Monday, March 3, 2008
"If You're Climbing Up a Ladder, and You Feel Something Splatter......."
You know how much I love my children, right? I mean I wouldn't trade any one them for all the money in the world. Except for days like today.
I was all prepared and ready to go to my first physical therapy appointment this morning. I was actually just ready to walk out the door to take Colin next door and leave and then the most vile, nauseous, disgusting, thing to ever happen to me as a mother, happened. Wouldn't you know it was Colin.
Rewind about 10 minutes. He is fussing and whining about his stomach. He hasn't felt up to par the past couple of days and I thought he was better but he had this "look" about him. Call it a mother's intuition, but I knew something was happening and he wasn't quite right. Sure enough, I sat him down and he blasted a truly man-sized explosion into the toilet. All better. Or so I thought.
The vile part? Hahahahahaha! I wish.
I called my neighbor, called the physical therapy people, and rescheduled, because I knew my neighbor didn't want any part of a stomach bug. I settled down for a mid-morning snack and he was on the computer. He comes into the den with "that look" again and I tell him to quickly get to the bathroom. Again with this "thinking " thing I'm doing...........I thought he was ok.
He toddles out of the bathroom, underwear around his ankles, and says he pooped on the floor. Great. Not the first time this has happened. Not pleasant, but not the end of the world.
What I walked into can only be described as the anti-Christ in liquid poop form. That child had splatted all over the back of the toilet, onto the cabinet beside the toilet, on the effing wall behind the toilet, and of course, all on the floor in the little 8 inch gap between the toilet and the cabinet.
How in the Hell did he manage that? I was truly flabbergasted. I bathed him and proceeded to clean up the mess. I sprayed so much pine-sol I think I have permanently damaged my esophagus from the fumes.
Alright, back to normal.
Nope, not a chance.
He did it again. Twenty minutes later.
I mean the exact spray pattern as before. It was then I figured out how he did it. He likes to squat over the toilet. Like, if you are squatting in the grass. He does this on the toilet. I have seen this. I have caught him sitting up there, perched like a little bird. Up until now, aim has not been a problem. It basically drops right in. Given that he had, oh I would say, about ten pounds of pressure behind this one, well, hence my story.
I was all prepared and ready to go to my first physical therapy appointment this morning. I was actually just ready to walk out the door to take Colin next door and leave and then the most vile, nauseous, disgusting, thing to ever happen to me as a mother, happened. Wouldn't you know it was Colin.
Rewind about 10 minutes. He is fussing and whining about his stomach. He hasn't felt up to par the past couple of days and I thought he was better but he had this "look" about him. Call it a mother's intuition, but I knew something was happening and he wasn't quite right. Sure enough, I sat him down and he blasted a truly man-sized explosion into the toilet. All better. Or so I thought.
The vile part? Hahahahahaha! I wish.
I called my neighbor, called the physical therapy people, and rescheduled, because I knew my neighbor didn't want any part of a stomach bug. I settled down for a mid-morning snack and he was on the computer. He comes into the den with "that look" again and I tell him to quickly get to the bathroom. Again with this "thinking " thing I'm doing...........I thought he was ok.
He toddles out of the bathroom, underwear around his ankles, and says he pooped on the floor. Great. Not the first time this has happened. Not pleasant, but not the end of the world.
What I walked into can only be described as the anti-Christ in liquid poop form. That child had splatted all over the back of the toilet, onto the cabinet beside the toilet, on the effing wall behind the toilet, and of course, all on the floor in the little 8 inch gap between the toilet and the cabinet.
How in the Hell did he manage that? I was truly flabbergasted. I bathed him and proceeded to clean up the mess. I sprayed so much pine-sol I think I have permanently damaged my esophagus from the fumes.
Alright, back to normal.
Nope, not a chance.
He did it again. Twenty minutes later.
I mean the exact spray pattern as before. It was then I figured out how he did it. He likes to squat over the toilet. Like, if you are squatting in the grass. He does this on the toilet. I have seen this. I have caught him sitting up there, perched like a little bird. Up until now, aim has not been a problem. It basically drops right in. Given that he had, oh I would say, about ten pounds of pressure behind this one, well, hence my story.
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