Too Much...again

So I need to know how much is too much.

I need to know.

Recently I fell ill with a stomach virus that has taken my intestines by storm and left me with nothing more than cramping and the need to be near a restroom (where by near I mean I have approximately 10 seconds to get my butt on a toilet.)

Honestly poop is a subject I can't help but talk about and it totally grosses my husband out.

My first bout with over sharing came when the nurse returned my call regarding Aspen. She wanted to know color, consistency, smell, frequency....she wanted the details. Of course, I obliged and then acted all embarrassed to be talking about it in the first place because, seriously, I know how to play it cool.

I think I played it off well and was able to talk in detail about our situation to someone besides my husband, who thinks talking about getting pooped on is disgusting. Um..hello? I actually was pooped on. Several times. And I need to talk through it.

Then things took a turn. I got sick. Which if you haven't any idea about the inner workings of our family is the equivalent to Batshit Crazy with a side of Oh My Gosh Who is in Charge of this place. Nuts...complete nuts.

As it turns out, my work schedule wasn't going to allow for much time off to recover. So, I took Monday off thinking that would be enough. Hoping, anyway. I called work and said I was sick. Which should have been enough.

Did I stop there? No.

I continued to tell my boss that not only was I ill, I was ill with a stomach bug.

Did I stop there? No.

My boss' response was something you'd except. "Stay the hell away from me!"

Except I thought I should explain that I was not throwing up.

Did I stop there? No.

I should have stopped there. Really, I should have. I can't even begin to describe the conversation that proceeded. All that I know is that I caught this bug on Sunday and it's Wednesday and it's worse than ever. Driving with diarrhea should be against the law.

So, how much information is too much? Where do you stop? Or, do you stop?

Who Knew One Day I'd Actually Consider Putting My Hand in a Toilet Full of Poop

The thing is that when I leave this place for too long coming back is hard and as the days wear on without writing, sitting down to write the thousands of entries saved in mah brain just gets harder.

So, today, I will write.

About what?

Poop.

What else?

When in doubt write what you know. Or whatever it is that they say.

I've been putting a half-assed effort into potty training The Baby (who by the way is 2.5 years-old and will forever be The Baby thankyouverymuchvasectomy!)

I've only been half-assing it because....I'm Lazy and I don't exactly think she's potty trained if I'm the one asking her a thousand times a day if she needs to use the restroom. No. I call that potty training myself. And, if you must know, I am already potty trained. Shocking, I know.

Half-assing it or not the kid is getting it. She is just a little lazy and hey let's be honest stopping to pee is just a pain in the rear when there are hundreds of Barbies who need haircuts. They are lined up around the block and The Baby thinks she is in beauty school or something.

Anyway.

Last week we were out running errands much of the day and The Baby had a bout of wicked diarrhea which is alarming to a mother who is Potty Training, never carries a diaper bag and might be able to find a few stray wipes underneath the her seat buried under miscellaneous shrapnel. In a word, FRIGHTENING.

Regardless, The Baby was handling it with poise. As soon as her stomach would start cramping she'd holler that the diarrhea was coming. Now! As loud as she could to make sure the guy who was hard of hearing two stores away could hear her. I'd quickly stop what I was doing and head straight for the bathroom. At a dead run!

I finally figured out that we were better off at home but not before The Incident.

I was meandering through Costco when I heard her. The Baby yelped and gripped her stomach which meant I had approximately 6 seconds to get her to a toilet before the explosion. I was in the back of the store approximately 2.5 miles from the bathroom. I ran as fast as I could telling the child to "Squeeze her cheeks together". Her response was to take both of her hands and squeeze her cheeks. "Not those cheeks, you silly! Your other cheeks. Your butt cheeks."

We made it the restroom with no pre-explosion a miracle of epic proportions.

No sooner had I gotten The Baby all settled on the toilet did I hear her crying.

"What? What is wrong?"

"The shoe. Shoe in the toilet."

"Uh. Oh."

"Get it, Mommy."

"No way."

"My dolly needs her shoe Mommy!"

Flush.

"Honey, Mommy cannot get you a shoe full of poop for your dolly. We are going to have to get new ones for her. It's too dangerous for fish for dolly shoes in the toilet!"

And, like you would imagine she can't stop telling everyone about her dolly's shoe that fell into the toilet that Mommy flushed.

And the Winner Is...

Hey guys!

First of all I know I suck! I mean who in their right mind goes and hosts a giveaway and then just disappears? Who does that?

Um, me, I guess.

It's only because I have been in my left mind lately but my right mind is almost back with me. Almost.

Anyway, click on the video to see who won the giveaway!

Go on, you know you want to.

Just don't listen to my voice.

Or stare at my mole.

It's embarrassing.

All of it.



Okay, you lucky ladies. Go ahead and email me at zimkandace@comcast.net to claim your prizes!

Congratulations and thanks for playing. Like I mentioned in the video I have an incredible giveaway coming shortly! Ladies, you will not want to miss it!

All those who have lost their minds...

(If you are looking for the $25 giveaway it's HERE!)

...raise your hands.

Midge has decided to act out my feelings today.

Really I couldn't have said it any better myself.

Except maybe I'd tell you what has caused me to lose my freaking mind.

Facebook.

There I said it.

I'm addicted to Facebook.

And, I have no idea why. Except that maybe, I am little nosy. Where nosy is defined as TELL ME EVERYTHING AND DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE OUT THE DETAILS. And I want to see what people have been up to, except really, I do not actually care about those people.

So, it's crazy.

I am wasting time that I do not have on people I do not really care about. (I am not talking about YOU. YOU are people I care about. So if YOU and I are "friends" on facebook well then YOU and I are friends because obviously I talk to you more than once every 15 years.)

Which of course is completely logical given the fact that work has started to get a touch overwhelming and I love avoidance. I may, in fact, be a professional procrastinator. Which is why facebook and I are suddenly BFF's who sleep together and everything.

It's sick.

But, I can't stop.

Okay, so I can stop but I am not.

Yeah, it's a choice.

Totally.

I can stop whenever I want.

I swear.

Stop hounding me.

I don't need to explain myself to YOU.

(Come over and find me! Now!)