Potty Humor, Inherited

I love potty humor.

Potty humor is like my cheap beer. Give me a little and I get tipsy and giggly. I want more and more and more. Until I laugh uncontrollably and nearly pass out.

I love potty humor so much I have many "potty humor stories", which have little to do with the potty and a lot to do with the predicaments into which I have gotten as a result of all of the talking about potty.

Here's my favorite. It was late one Friday evening and I was with my three best friends. We were 16 years-old and at our favorite late-night hangout, Sharie's 24-hour restaurant. We had a window booth. I am sure it was me who began singing the, "When you slide into first and you feel something burst..."--you know the rest--song, but everyone quickly joined in. The group to the south of us, though we couldn't see them, were bothered by our potty-song. They began discussing "how obnoxious teens today are." One of them even said, "SHUT UP" loudly. They must have complained because our waitress came over to tell us to shut up or management would kick us out. Being threatened like that had the opposite than the intended effect on us: we thought we were awesome! We continued our song, albeit a little quieter. Eventually the party to the south of us left. A few minutes later I noticed a car halting a few yards away from the window to our booth. Out jumped a young male adult who began running toward us. Odd, I thought, until I noticed him tugging at the waist of his jeans and then I thought, really odd. By the time he arrived at our window he was smashing his bare derriere against the window in a full moon. We screamed. Then we got kicked out. Management was not interested in our excuses and didn't believe a word of our story.

My siblings love potty humor as well. All of our spouses discuss amongst themselves that when we, the S siblings, get together there is only 10 minutes before a potty theme comes up. When it does they all roll their eyes and nod in mutual suffering. All while the S siblings laugh hysterically, until tears sometimes.

I own several potty books.

I read them to my clients sometimes. This is my favorite.

In 11th grade I did a large science project on potty. My teacher LOVED it. It included a rap about potty.

Hippo has inherited my potty sense of humor.

(I'm sitting here typing with a large smile of pride on my face.)

When he farts he laughs hysterically and tries to push out more (maybe that's because, when I'm not in public...okay, sometimes when I am in public...I laugh hysterically at him when he farts). Tonight in the bathtub he began farting loudly, and bubbly, and of course we are both laughing quite hard and L walked by and said, "Maybe you should blog about this," and rolled his eyes.

"Maybe I will," I replied.

More Pictures of MEEEEE

I'm Eighteen Months

It's been a long time since I've guest-posted, I know you've been wondering about me.

Eighteen months is the second right of passage in life if you are Mormon, it's the age where you begin to attend nursery the final two hours of the three hour block on Sunday. My mommy and daddy, and the entire relief society and priesthood, couldn't be more excited. During the announcements in relief society each week, the person conducting asks the ladies if there is anyone with "good news." People usually share the birth of a child/grandchild or the engagement/marriage of a loved one. In twelve years of relief society, my mommy has never shared "good news," until today when she raised her hand and said, "Hippo is finally in nursery!" A loud cheer went through the crowd of ladies. The lady conducting said, "He wasn't too bad..." and my mommy gave her a look to remind her that Mormons believe in being honest. The lady conducting quickly changed the subject.

I didn't have any problem going to nursery like some kids do, some cry a lot but not me. I ran in and didn't take a second look back at my mommy and daddy. When they said "bye" to me I ignored them. They came to check on me half way through by peaking at me through the window of the door; I pretended not to see them because I was having too much fun playing telling a little girl off who took a truck I wanted. We learned about prayer in nursery and I think my teachers were impressed I already know how to fold my arms and say "Amen!"

Speaking of telling off, I talk A LOT, pretty much all of the time. If I am quiet for more than two minutes in a row my mommy suspects I am either sick or doing something I shouldn't be doing. Sometimes I talk in gibberish but most of the time I use my words that I have learned. Just this week I have started to speak in phrases or small sentences. For example, "UP, PLEASE!"

It may surprise you that I know the first few letters of the alphabet. It surprised my mommy and daddy several weeks ago when we were out playing on the farm and I went over to a farm truck to look at the license plate and when I saw the letters I began singing the A-B-C song. Another time I surprised my mommy was when I saw, on one of my alphabet toys, a picture of H is for Hippo and I went over to it, pointed, and said, "Hippo." And yet another thing that shocked my mommy was the other day when I stood up in the bath pointed to my crotch and said the correct anatomical name for my male genitalia.

I absolutely LOVE being outside. I request to go "outside" several times per day. I like to help my mommy water "flowers", weed, harvest her vegetables (especially grape "tomatoes" that I eat right off the vine), dig in the dirt, walk over to my grandma and grandpa's house all by myself, "jump" on the trampoline, play in my sandbox, ride on my "tractor", ride on my grandpa's "tractor" and "trucks" (which I request/demand first thing when I wake up each and every morning), take walks to the store/library/park, swing under the apple tree, mow the lawn with daddy, help on the farm, play with the neighbor "dog" and "kitties", look at "planes" in the sky, eat dinner al fresca, etc., etc., etc.

I also LOVE going places (I ask my mommy to leave the boring house by saying, "bye" and running to the garage door to pound on it). I like to go anywhere and even though I have bad behavior in restaurants and at church I love being out and about. I am still very friendly to friends, family, and strangers.

Another thing my mommy and daddy find incredible is that, now for several weeks, when I go number two I inform them I have "POOP!" in my diaper. They say they are glad I tell them but not so glad I demand to be changed immediately.

I am now walking really good and I am working on going up and down steps and running. I still don't climb much which makes my mommy and daddy rejoice.

I like to "help" my mommy do laundry, dishes, and yard work. I like to pet the "kitty" "gentle". I like to play with my "trucks" and "tractors". I like to eat "snacks" and "lunch". And I like to do "make up" with my mommy.

My favorite food is probably tomatoes right now in addition to my old favorites: strawberries, "oranges", peanut butter, "cheese", pretzels, and "cookies" of course. My mommy made cream of fresh tomato soup the other night for dinner and I LOVED it so much I wanted "MORE!"

My temper tantrums have gotten a little bit better, probably because my mommy and daddy have gotten better at dealing with them appropriately. I don't mind going to time out very much and I often nod "yes" when my mommy and daddy ask me if I need a time out to calm down. Most days I don't have to go to time out but some days I have to go to time out a lot; it just depends on how cooperative I feel like being.

I'm getting skinnier since I can walk and run now. My mommy and daddy are sad to see my chubbiness go but they think I am "cute" no matter what.

I still love music and my mommy and daddy still show me music videos while I eat or to calm me down. My current favorites songs are Airborn Toxic Event's "Sometime Around Midnight", Kings of Leon's "Use Somebody", Taylor Swift "You Belong With Me", George Straight's "Living For The Night", Beyonce's "Sweet Dreams", Boys Like Girls' "Love Drunk", Shakira's "She Wolf", Green Day's "21 Guns", and Colbie Caillat's "Falling For You". I DO NOT like Mariah Carey's "Obsessed" and I HATE everything from Daughtry. My mommy says I have good music taste. I still like it when my mommy sings to me, especially the ABC song.

Besides my trucks and tractors, my favorite toys are still my "books." I don't really have a favorite book anymore because I like them all. I ask my mommy and daddy to read me a "book" if they sit down for more than 30 seconds. I look forward to bedtime or "night-night" because I know that they will read me four books every night.

That's all I can think of to tell about myself. If you have any questions of course you can leave them in the comments and I will get to them as soon as I can.

Sick As A Dog

As my sister would say.

I should have known something was amiss Monday morning when I not only didn't feel like going to the gym but I chose not to go.

Monday afternoon the symptoms began to present themselves: watery eyes, dry throat, sneezing one hundred times in a row (I'm not kidding), and thin mucus which would fall out of my nose if I bent over. By the time L was home that night and Hippo was finally in bed my throat was on fire, I couldn't breath out of my nose if I laid down, and my head felt like it was going to explode. It was the worst sinus headache I can remember--that's a big feat because I have seasonal allergies from h-e-double hockey sticks, as my brother would say.

I could not sleep that night despite L going to the 24-hour pharmacy to purchase some relief for me.

Luckily, I worked the next day.

Things were looking up when I woke up Wednesday with nearly every orifice on my face oozing thick yellow mucus.

I calculate I lost no less than $400 for calling in sick both Tuesday and Wednesday; and of course I had to cancel my private clients as well.

I also missed an important meeting with the organization through which I hold credentials, a business lunch meeting, and some beautiful weather.

On the bright side of things...

Since I was scheduled to work, L was scheduled to be home with Hippo. Nothing beats being taken care of, I'll tell you what. Hippo helped by screaming loudly nearly all day long, napping less than 90 minutes, jumping up on me, wanting me to read him a long book every five minutes, and giving me hugs and kisses every now and again.

I hope I feel much better soon, the house is looking a little shabby.

Eight Years Ago...

Today, I met L. It's been, bar none, the best eight years of my life.

Except eight years ago, today, it was a Tuesday. I thought the world was going to end; turns out, it didn't. And my world, from eight years ago, has gotten better and better and better.

The Moment I Lost It

Our church service changed from 9:00 am to 12:00 pm to 11:00 am to 2:00 pm today. During that time, in a typical day, Hippo plays outside (a critical event in each day as he can verbalize his desire to go "outside" millions of times until he is accommodated), eats lunch, and takes a nap. The way our church goes, those things just will not be possible. Hence, the best way to describe my experience for me and those within a 15-person radius of Hippo today was the exact opposite of Heaven.

I use an empty and dark room for time out during church. Hippo spent a large portion of 11:00 am to 2:00 pm in that empty an dark room today, mostly screaming like a dying hyena.

And when he wasn't in the empty and dark room, he was throwing toys and farting.

Since it was church, I kept praying he would just poop and get it over with...those prayers were unanswered and the farting continued.

By the time I got home and got Hippo into bed, I was plum worn out.

That's when I heard a strange hissing sound coming from the refrigerator. Going over to inspect it I saw nothing out of the ordinary and a quick temperature check yielded perfect freezing and cooling temperatures. So I ignored it and took a well-deserved nap.

I was woken by a VERY LOUD hissing noise coming from the refrigerator and I went to inspect again. This time I found some water dripping from the filter underneath the doors. I grabbed a kitchen towel and figured L would take a look at it when he got home from work.

By then Hippo was awake from his nap and when I got him up he informed me loudly he had, "POOP!"

I brought him downstairs after the diaper change and as I rounded the corner, in the kitchen, to the garbage can to deposit the soiled diaper, I slipped on a large puddle of water and fell on my butt. I got up and laughed a little while my tail bone stung and my eyes tingled with tears. Then I heard another, smaller thud and turned to see Hippo had slipped and fell in the same exact manner I had. I picked him up and comforted him and discovered water covering nearly the entire kitchen floor. He continued to cry as I put him down to assess the emerging crisis.

Pulling the refrigerator out gave no more information as to the problem. I desperately called L who completely blew me off. Hippo cried on.

An hour later, when six bath towels were no longer holding back the leak I desperately called L again leaving a nasty message (or six) and then a nasty text message (or six). And Hippo cried more.

When L finally called me back he gave me some sorry excuse about saving lives. I informed him our HOUSE WAS FLOODING! He told me to turn off the water on the back of the refrigerator. THERE IS NO SWITCH THERE! He told me to go downstairs and turn the valve off on the copper tubing. When I got to basement I discovered water FLOWING OUT OF THE CEILING! I violently swung open the door of the utility closet and realized verbally, IT'S REALLY DARK IN HERE AND I CAN'T SEE A THING!

That's when L said, "Oh, the lightbulb is probably burned out. Is that Hippo crying hysterically?"

Did you remember reading the part of the story, above, where I switched 'on' the light switch? No? That's because I hadn't...yet. L knew, 35 miles south in the depths of the University Hospital that the lightbulb in our utility closet was burned out. Hmmm.

That was the moment.

The one where I lost it.

The Library, The Witch, and The Olive Garden

Yesterday the library was a stop on our errand list. When we arrived Hippo donned his usual hypo-manic mood and began laughing hysterically, pushing books back on the stacks, pulling books off of the stacks, throwing books, running away from me, and then very loud breathing resulting from all of the running, and squealing when I would snatch him up.

It was the middle of the day and the library was surprisingly busy: several people on the computers and nearly all of the cushy chairs in the magazine area were occupied. I noticed, as I tried to keep Hippo sort of appropriate, that he was the only kid there. Sure it was during school hours, but he was the only person under the age of even five there, let along under the age of 18.

Being socially anxious I grew worried Hippo's behavior was annoying other patrons until one lady complimented me on Hippo's hair-do, a young woman snickered at Hippo running by the catalogue computers, and the young women's male companion openly laughed when Hippo snagged his foot on the burber and face planted it just before hitting the check out counter head-on. Finding that others thought him cute and funny I stopped hurrying about to find suitable reading material and took a little more time to enjoy one of my favorite place in the world. After all, I reminded myself, this is a kid-friendly place.

As I began to check out my things the librarian noted I had a $3.80 fine. I knew I had ample change in my wallet to cover the balance and noting there were no waiters in line behind me I thought what a great time to unload the extra weight. Hippo continued to run around and he found himself behind the "book holds" counter. The librarian, there, began to have an age-appropriate conversation with him until I arrived to escort him back to our pile of books. I apologized profusely for his obtrusive behavior. Upon arrival, I realized I had dropped my library card. The maneuver of bending down to pick up the card and slipping it into it's slot in my wallet took about 15 seconds, but unfortunately required me to drop Hippo's hand. Sensing the freedom he took off toward the direction of the "return books" desk and seeing a seemingly friendly librarian he walked behind the counter and screeched, "HIIIII!"

Do want to know what she said to him?

She said, as if talking to any of the adult patrons at the library at that particular moment, "You need to go back out there." and pointed, with a head gesture, to the area behind the counter.

I was furious. She wasn't rude in her voice tone at all. So it took me the 2 mile drive home to figure out what made me so angry. How in the world would a barely walking child understand such adult language, voice tone, and body language? AND, not suggesting my child is above redirection (remember, he is the child that knows a Mom says, "NO, NO, NO!"), what was so wrong with him wanting to say "hi" to her anyway? He didn't touch a thing, and if she would have paid attention to his body language he was staring directly at her and that he stopped directly in front of her.

But more, I realized that a child maybe twice his age would have been more attuned to her aloofness and felt badly about themselves for their attempt at friendliness. I think this is what really drove it home for my anger. How dare she make a child question their friendliness? How dare her teach MY child that the world is not a friendly place at all.

I thought, seriously, about turning around and driving back to the library to ask that particular librarian if she has ever seen the movie "Life is Beautiful" and if she hadn't suggest she view it ASAP and if she had, remind her that protecting children from the ugliness of the world--protecting their innocence--is important...much more than "employee only" zones at the local public library.

We ended our day of errands at the Olive Garden where the yearly promotion "All You Can Eat Pasta Bowl" is going on. We ate to fill our tummies and remind us, "Don't get mad, EAT...A LOT."

P.S. This was after we shared, from Costco's snack bar, 1 churro, 1 berry smoothie, and 1 hand-dipped ice cream bar with roasted almonds. Oh, boy...my Costco shopping experience gets better each and every time I go.