I know, I know. That title may come off as a bit extreme and even perhaps misleading because we all know that its far more likely that not pooping would be a more probable cause of death. But recent events have led me to believe that all those famous folks who are reported to have died on the toilet were probably not simply victims of bad hearts or poorly timed drug overdoses. Nay, they were most likely victims of poorly aligned vertebrae. Anecdotal evidence only holds so much credence, but seriously, it is possible to put your back out while using the toilet. And when that happens, you may just want to die right there on the commode like the rockstar you are. Continue reading
There is just nothing that can top the shopping experiences of a mother trying to purchase a list of three items. Especially if that said mother has a three year old with her.
First stop, Target. Two items: facial tissue and crackers for the three year old’s Halloween party tomorrow. 48 minutes, 3 trips to the bathroom, 1 Icee, and one very tortuous trip through the toy department later, we were finally read to leave. In the shopping cart? One long sleeve tee, 3 boxes of facial tissue (including one with fish on it in garish colors fit for only the criminally insane or 3 year old boys), a Littlest Pet Shop figure, and a dinosaur coloring book. On the way out, three year old loudly announces that he has just farted. Several nearby folk react – some with humor but a few of the bluer-haired ladies looked a bit peeved.
Second stop, Petco. $37 later, mom is the proud owner of 2 Tetra, 4 carbon filters, and a test strip kit. It only took 2 trips to the bathroom; which means I only had to hear the announcement, “Mom! I have to poop!!!” twice. (If your child has been potty trained for less than a month, you do not, upon penalty of dire consequences, make that child hold it. Because, you know once you threaten to throw away accident-filled underwear, that die has been cast.)
Ah, home in time for a cup of Chai.
Oh crap. Forgot the crackers for the stupid, stupid, stupid party tomorrow. Guess now I get to make a trip to the store with three children. You can only imagine how many items will make their way mysteriously into the shopping cart. Makes farting the best part of a shopping trip.
With three children, that means I have changed a very large number of diapers. Poopy diapers, potty diapers, you name it. I’ve had to count the number of each per hour, and I’ve dutifully noted consistency, color, odor, you name it. Somehow, this part of parenting never makes much of an entrance in the “what to expect” books.