Army of Mom

So this is how liberty dies ... with thunderous applause.


It gets worse

Watching the Cowboys game while the children eat dinner. Army of Dad left to vote early and grab us a bite to eat.

Alert! Alert! Alert! cries 5-year-old child as he runs in and proceeds to turn his hip to the side to show me runny shit pouring down his leg.

Well, go into the bathroom and go stand in the tub! I tell him.


I grab a hand towel and proceed to follow the poop trail back to the dinner table. Spot here, spot there. Three little spots in a row as he entered the carpet. One semi-small pile in the kitchen floor. Oh gees, I hope it isn't all over his chair at the dinner table. Whew. No poop over there. Run to the upstairs bathroom to grab the Woolite carpet cleaner, which was left up there after the last poop trail - thank God - many months ago. So, I go back and find the little brown spots and spray them with the foaming cleaner. Go back to the bathroom and run warm water to rinse said child and his poopy Star Wars underwear. Gross to the maximum level of grossness. After it is all rinsed out, I proceed to run him a bubble bath to hopefully kill some of the poop germs on him. Ewww. This is one of those moments that your pregnant friends don't tell you about right after you get married and they're telling you how great it is to have kids and how you should start a family, blah blah blah ... blessing to your life and marriage .. blah blah blah. Bull shit. They just want you to also be cleaning shit out of the floor so they can secretly laugh at you behind your back for being stupid enough to get knocked up and cleaning up shit and puke for FREE. At least a janitor gets paid for that shit (pun intended.)

Taking deep breaths.

Ok. I'm over it. I love my children. *say it again and again* I love my children. I love my job. I love my children. I love my job.

I really do love being their mom. You just have to put up with the shit to get the good stuff. Just like any relationship. I'm just glad I'm over being sick so I can tolerate them being sick. Now, if I could get my back to stop hurting I'd be in good shape. I think I'll call my massage lady for a massage Tuesday.


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