I swear I’ve blogged at least four times this weekend in my head. Oooh, and they were good ones too. But now that I actually have a second to set in the peace and quiet of my home and think….I’m a total blank.
So I’ll just tease you with the unadulterated highlights…
Thursday we went to my parents for a relaxing comfortable afternoon dinner and then had to put on our “pretty faces” for my in-laws that evening.
A little less relaxing.
Friday I dug out the Christmas decorations and decorated the front porch with my daughter. The best it’s looked in the 5 years that we’ve lived here…thankyouverymuch!
Saturday was a second thanksgiving…pretty faces on….with the in-laws….AGAIN!
And Sunday, well, Sunday could have been a post in itself.
I went to use the little bathroom outside the pre-school room before picking up Gabe from his class. I took care of my “monthly” business (please don’t make me explain any more than that) and went to flush. It didn’t go down folks. In fact it went up! Some sweet little pre-schooler must have clogged up that toilet right before me.
I frantically searched under the sink, in the cupboard, behind the toilet and could not find a plunger anywhere. I found myself with two choices. Leave it or scuba dive for it. And I have to admit that in the split second before the toilet water rolled over the top of the rim, it was a real moral dilemma. The only thing that kept me from walking out the door was the fact that I knew the minute I opened the door, somebody’s daddy would be there smiling and waiting to go in right after me.
So what was I supposed to do?
Thankfully I had worn short sleeves, and without a seconds more hesitation, I grabbed a paper towel to protect my hand (HA, like that’s gonna help) and became a human plunger.
12 years ago I would have walked out of the room. Sticking my bare hand in a toilet full of yuck would not have even entered my mommy-free mind. But having kids does something to you. It changes you and suddenly you have options.
Your options usually include choices like whether to just spray perfume over the baby vomit and hope nobody smells it, to pretend that the tag on your inside-out shirt is a new fashion statement or to ask who that bratty kid belongs to that is screaming in the library while the whole time you hope he doesn’t look up at you and blow your cover by running to you and hollering, “Mommy.”
See what I’m talking about? OPTIONS!
So what was my point? Shoot, I don’t’ know any more. But I can tell you this. No amount of soap and water or anti-bacterial hand sanitizer can make you feel quite right after fishing stuff out of a used toilet.
And…..I’m gonna stop now.