Poop Chronicles, vol. 7

Sub-title: Things that are not funny to me yet.
*Warning: extensive use of italics in the this post*
What the heck is WRONG with my children? Where are they getting the idea that it is in any way OK to be disgusting? Who is talking to them? Who is supervising them?
Rosie...grrrr...Rosie is the one who is skating on thin ice around here these days. John put the closet- toilet out of commission because it needs a repair that he doesn't have time to do right now and it has been leaking nastiness in the meantime, so for now it is not in operation. Anyway, it is the only toilet on the main floor and since he did this a couple weeks ago Rosie has been "having accidents" (that are decidedly not accidental) several times a DAY. Sheer laziness. The child just doesn't want to walk up a flight of stairs to the toilet. She would rather reek and get rashes and be generally revolting. If you inquire about her state of mind during said "accidents" then you will hear, "Ugh. How many times do I have to tell you? I WANTED TO PLAY." Grrrrrr......deep breath, Alexis.
BUT while that may explain why you pooped on the slide today it does not explain why last week you climbed into your sisters crib and dropped a big turd in the middle and then covered it with a blanket! OK, maybe that last one is a little funny now.
But the pooping on the slide?! That one is still just burning me up. Shudder and nausea.
I think I know who to pin this on though. While we were in Michigan last week we were bemoaning our lot in life regarding these strange poop-related behaviors to my family and, well, here's the end of that conversation...

John: ...and he says, "I wanted to finish building my track." So then you went over and peed in the corner?!
Anonymous brother: Well...that's not too weird.

Ahem. And I know that this particular brother really enjoys working on projects in his basement. Mmmhmm. So, I ax ya...what can you do with uncles like that?

Even Batman can have a bad day

I've watched this a hundred times and I still love it. Life can just be so discouraging, sometimes.
Note: I couldn't watch the video on the iPad. Like I said, life can just be so discouraging.

Poop Chronicles, vol 6...

You never know when its going to happen. You never suspect that your time has come. You can never be prepared enough for when The Grossest Thing Ever to Happen, happens to you. Please, please...take my advice and, "Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the [Poop Fates] prowl around like a roaring lion looking for someone to [disgust]". *
Sunday started out a lovely, crisp autumn morning and we all enjoyed pulling out our longed-for Fall duds. Boys in corduroy, girls in sweaters and tights. I got the kids down for a nap and watched Devil Wears Prada whilst beginning the Great Seasonal Clothing Shift. Then the babies woke up and so I went down to get them from their cribs. And there I saw...
nothing, everything was fine. I was still an unsuspecting sap. I went down and got everyone a snack, checked Facebook and then smelled a smell. John not being home, I had no recourse but to deal with the offending party myself.
As I laid Cecilia down I felt a dampness through her skirt and realized that it was really quite a bummer that John wasn't home. I then came to the gruesome realization that she had had quite a blowout of unhealthy-looking excrement all the way down her tights and even into the feet of the tights. Darn Autumn! It would have been so much easier to clean up poo-on-skin then poo-on-skin-through-tights.
I checked my watch. Darn again...John wouldn't be home for two more hours. So I took a deep breath and girded my loins, prepared for battle of the nastiest kind.
Then it happened. The Grossest Thing Ever to Happen, happened to me (memory shudder). As I pulled down her tights I realized that this situation was worse then I thought because, in addition to the runnyness of the filth, it was also rather...well, I'm sorry but it was...chunky. I'm sorry, there's no other way to say it. As I was pulling down her tights I lost my grip on that darn stretchy, slippery fabric and it snapped back and splat against her leg, spraying my face with, well...need we say anymore?
And my mouth? Oh, yes, yes...open.
Sigh. So, please, please, learn from my mistakes, from my lack of alertness, from my lukewarmness. Because if your lukewarmness doesn't cause God to "spew you out of [his] mouth" then you could be the one doing the spewing. Stay alert and sober out there tonight, America. God be with you.

*Modern translation of 1st Peter 5:8, some words paraphrased.
**"So then because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth." Rev. 3:16

Can you guess what this is a picture of?

Oh, of course! Beaver nuns.
By Rosie

Iceman and Tiger

On Hobbies

I was in the grocery store (Weis, for you locals) tonight and was witness to an artist at work. Deb was her name and my, can she pack a grocery bag. Like all good artists she was very deliberate and focused as she worked, getting all the details JUST SO. She had short term goals and long term goals. Looking down the conveyor belt, murmuring to herself ("apple cider, mmmm... parmesan... mmm...squash...") and only then would she take on the next item and put it in it's proper place. It's proper place would be one of several categories that spanned in a crescent around her own rotund self. Sometimes it took many seconds of hard discernment but eventually the item would find its rightful place. And then, like a true artist, she would turn from this detail back to the big picture and determine her next step ("cream, mmmm...eggs....peaches...OK, right, toothpaste"), reaching for the item that made the most sense given the overall scheme.
Had I had children with me I may have been distracted and frustrated and therefore missed this opportunity to admire her diligence in this labor of love but thankfully I was in no rush to get home to aforesaid children and so used the opportunity watch a genius at work...albeit with some amazement that Deb is able to make a living off of this particular art form.
All of this to say that Deb and her grocerybag art and me and my life are rather similar. I am in no rush with this blog...Love Life is a hobby, just one item in a much bigger picture - the actual Loves' lives. It's something that takes some creativity and energy to keep up and therefore ebbs and flows along with my life. I sincerely apologize to those waiting in my line if it moves at a slower pace then is comfortable (Deb did not apologize for her own style but I think that we must diverge paths on this point, sorry Deb - every analogy fails at some point). I would prefer to be steady and reliable (Stay Calm and Blog On) but alas, I do not think it is to be. My long term goals often push the blog to the back of the line and it just doesn't make it in the bag very quickly. But it's been 4.5 years or so of fits and spurts and we keep putt putting along so I think we're here to stay. Sometimes more and sometimes less but Deb and I aren't going anywhere. And we thank those who encourage us to keep up the project, we love to hear that people want us to speed up because that means that they appreciate the final product. Sadly, we don't often have the energy to do all that we'd like to do and that is why neither Deb or I will ever take this project to the next level. It's a hobby. Oh wait, there goes that failed analogy again. Poor Deb...are there amateur grocerybag artists? Because I don't think that deadlines are really our thing...