Well here it is, the beginning of what will surely be, one of my greatest works: A blog about Poop. These adventures are the reason I have gray hairs sprouting on my head, wrinkles on my forehead, and the ever extending laugh lines on my cheeks. These stories are the ones that I pass on to you, my readers. All my inspiration and experience comes from my 3 kids, Jade Marie (10), Eleanore Leigh (4) and my S.U.N, Wyatt Clyde (18 months).

I guarantee that I will use foul language in this blog, (who doesn't when we talk about the silly shit our kids do??) so if you're easily offended, you can put your finger on the screen and miraculously skip over my curse words. They're only verbs right?

These are the Poop Chronicles, for your laughing pleasure my friends and family...

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Oceans and Pools

You'd think with a fully potty trained 3 year old, things couldn't get too bad around our house. I was wrong. Ohhh LAWD! I was wrong. We've crossed over the threshold, made it to the finish line, and now have entered new teritory that I am super unfamiliar with. Let's face it: kids are gross. (I'm almost positive I say that in every post, but its so painfully TRUE!) I think many of us parents have sat, awestruck and dumbfounded, as events have unraveled right in front of our very eyes. I know I have. I've sat there, in my chair, questioning reality, and thought: Is this really happening to me right now?


Every year for the last 15 years, I have gone to the same beach to camp with my family. The stairs at South Carlsbad can be brutal. There's about 250 of them to get to the beach (I think it's 5-6 flights, maybe more). If you forget something in your campsite, you are cursing every step going back up to the campgrounds. If you have to poop...you're cursing outloud AND running up the stairs.

This year was especially hard for me because Tim had to work almost the entire time we were there. Try toting a 10 month old brick baby on your hip going up and down those bad-boy stairs. Work Out! Add in a whiney 3 year old and a pre-teen 10 year old and whew! You would just LOVE walking a day in my shoes! :)

I asked the girls if they had to go to the bathroom before going down to the beach. In fact, I made them go, even if they didn't have to. That eventually leads to a tantrum of NOT wanting to go..."Because I don't HAVE to GOOOOO right now MOMMY!!!" Ahhh Ellie and her stomping feet tantrums. I pink-fuzzy-heart those moments.

Anyhooo, we're down at the beach on the first day, and of COURSE, 20 minutes after we get down there (I've finally got Mr. W down for a nap) Ellie has to pee. I do not want to go up the stairs for just pee. When I say she has to pee, I mean PEE. She's doing this dance on her tippy toes, spinning in circles, holding her "giiiina"  and yelling at me, "I NEED TO GO POTTY MOMMYYYY!!!!" There's no fucking way we're making it up 250 + stairs and getting to the bathroom on time. So I tell her, "Ellie, just go in the ocean, it will be ok." She gave me this look like I had just told her the dumbest joke on the planet. So I take her hand and lead her out to the water and say, "It will be fine, I'll go with you." So we're out there in the water, jumping over waves, and I tell her, "Elle, just stand in the water and go pee-pee, no one is going to watch you." Well she makes it totally OBVIOUS!!! And Im trying to correct her and just tell her to stand up, but noooo, she wants to sit like she's on a toilet, so she LOOKS like she is definitely peeing in the ocean. Grrrreeeat. Luckily, my family is the first one down to the beach so its just us, and they don't care or judge me as a lazy mother. :)

So 4 days of peeing in the ocean water gets me this: We drive to the Ramada Hotel across the street where my Grandma, Aunt & Uncle, 2 cousins and my Mom are staying for the week in stead of at the campsite...and we are going to take a break from the sand (THANK YOU!!!!) and go in the nice cool pool. Excellent. We're sitting poolside and Ellie comes up to me... dancing..."Mommy I gotta go potty really bad." Ok! I bolt up and am about to take her hand and she says, "Oh WAIT!!! I know!" ...Runs, jumps into the spa next to this old man relaxing, squats, and pees. Dude is looking at me like I am a freak of nature baby killer and all I can do (red faced and cursing my stupidness for not explaining to Ellie that we do NOT pee in the pool) is smile.

Can you say Mortified?
I can even spell it:

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

First Place

Graduation, promotion, next level...whatever you want to call it, we are there. Not only has Ellie entered the "why?" phase in her life, but she has also managed to achieve the First Place "Gross kid" prize. She is still super adorable, playing dress up, trying to play the piano, playing hide and seek with Wyatt (yeah, that can't happen quite yet, but she thinks she's doing just that)...but this gross kid phase has a gag factor that I didn't quite have when she was a baby and I was changing dirty diapers. Even while potty training her, I've had some HORRIBLE stories/instances, but nothing has prepared me for this.

As a baby, she didn't know what she was doing you know? Dirty diaper = I changed it. Accident while potty training = I cleaned it. I don't even know what to put on either side of the "=" sign for this one. Let me just give you an example of late:

The scene is set in my slightly new Pathfinder. (Only 6 months old I believe. Not a 2011, but "new" to me. It's an 05 I think. I keep that thing as clean as I can. Washed once every 2 weeks, vacuumed and detailed...STILL manages to look like shit whenever I leave the house though)

We're driving home from dropping Jade off with her Dad for the weekend. I'm spacing out, singing along to some Dire Straights classics, Ellie and I have this following conversation:

Ellie: Mommy! Smell my hand!!
Me: Huh?? What??! Whyyyyy?? (Told you, I was spaced out)
Meanwhile, she's still holding her hand out...it's ALMOST touching the back of my seat. I have the air conditioning on a little bit, and before you know, this smell come wafting up to the front seat. I swerve in my lane because it OFFENDS me SO badly. This smell...it was...disgusting. I can only describe it as sweaty, 3 year old, not very well wiped, butt-crack...ON HER HAND!!!

Im swallowing my bile back down into my esophagus and I choke out, "ELEANORE LEIGH!!! WHAT are you DOING back there???!!!!"

She replys, "I'm.picking.my.BUTT!" (Just like that! With the sassy pauses and EVERYTHING!)

"Ellie, that is so gross and nasty. Little girls don't do that. Put your hands in your lap and DONT.TOUCH.ANYTHING." (And I'm thinking to myself, if she touches Wyatt's face I'm going to pull over and puke)

"I'm going to pick my wiener too" she says, laughing manically because she KNOWS it will just set me off into another 'gross kid' rant. I tell her, "Ellie, you don't have a wiener." (I said it like I defeated her smarty-ass-ness, but damn it all if she came back with a zinger that just shut me up and made me laugh hysterically for about 10 minutes)

"Oh yeah, I have a SCARY VAGINA!!!!" says Eleanore Leigh Phipps, my crazed and winner of the "Gross Kid" prize.

Tell me she doesn't deserve 1st place?!

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Poopscapades 3.0

Woke up to new noises today. Wyatt was in his crib babbling, using his tongue on the roof of his mouth and curling it into a little taco. He was so cute. Sort of. Did I mention it was 3:30am?? Did I also mention that he wouldn't go back to sleep until I did a song and dance in the living room, drink 2 cups of coffee, then sacked out in my arms. He's such a cuddle bug.

But even going back to bed at 5:30am isn't REALLY going back to bed.

Irony: I get back in bed at 5:31am...Tim's alarm goes off at 5:35am, and he says, "Are you getting up with me?"


Normally, my laughing on the computer looks like this: Bwhahahahahahah!!! And you KNOW I'm actually laughing. So you can imagine what Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha. sounds like in real life coming out of my mouth. (It sounds like this: Yeah Right, Fuck No)

So after I get back to sleep around 6:15am, because let's face it, I've had to get up and draw the curtains a little bit more, because that sun is just peeking in RIGHT into my face. And then I hear someone go to the bathroom...drifting...drifting...asleeeep. aaaaahhhh.

7:15am: enter Ellie
"Mommy! It's time to wake UP!!!"

"Of course it is!!" I throw off the covers. I look to the crib, Wyatt is on his tummy, propped up on his hands, staring at me with the face that says: feeeed meeeee. (He's in a good mood, screw it) I get BACK in bed, pull the covers over my head and tell Ellie, "No it's not time to get up. Mommy is tired." 5 minutes later, all is quiet...a little too quiet. THAT's when I start to worry. You know when it's quiet, they are UP to something. Always. Never fails. Doesn't matter if it's 7am, 1pm, 10pm...too quiet=shit they are getting into. Well this morning...quite literally:

Ellie was in Shit.

I walk by the bathroom, give it a glance, keep walking, then halt. I have to process what my eyes just saw to my brain...and I'm a little slow this morning because I REALLY didn't want to get out of bed. My eyes are telling me that I saw Ellie naked, a fat steamer on the ground in a puddle of pee, dirty pajamas that I just stepped over but didn't realize, poo on the tub, toilet and cabinets... Uuuuuummmmmm. No brain is now telling me: no fucking way. Please no way.

I back up...and sure enough, brain was right. We have a poopscapade. It's level 3.0 (because we've now entered the 3rd year of birth) and it was very messy. I don't think she did it on purpose. I have a feeling she got her jammies stuck (she was wearing the footie ones with a long zipper) and she had to go really bad.

What I love about Ellie is that she tries to solve her own problems. Take this morning for example. She looks at the situation and says how can I fix this?? Pee on the floor, put a towel on it. Pee on the pajamas, take them off. Poo in the panties, take the poo out and put it in the toilet. THIS is where she needs help, but doesn't realize it. This little poopie was quite squishy, so instead of her regular "balls or nuggets" as she loves to call them, this little guy just fell threw her hands, er, poop on the floor, cabinets, hands, tub and her back (don't know HOW that happened).

Solution: lots of bleach, curse words, and now: coffee.

The End. Welcome to my day. Is it Friday yet??? (As IF that would prevent from this happening tomorrow) Until next time folks, have a super duper day, and remember...antibacterial soap. It's your kids' best friend.

Sunday, January 1, 2012

Skunk and Tuna

"Mommy, poo-poo smells like skunk and pee-pee smells like tuna" -Ellie Phipps

Well there you have it folks, from the mouth of babes, Skunk and tuna. I don't know what possesses her to have to tell me, daily, the consistency of her bowel movements. Maybe it's just a fascinating subject to kiddos. Their body made this nastiness and here it is in a bowl of water to look at. It's just magnified for ALL to see! Yeah! (whoaa, totally sarcastic here) I've caught Ellie just sitting on the floor with her chin resting on the toilet bowl, staring deeply into the toilet, having a conversation with her dearly departed shits. W.t.f child??! Wash your damn hands AND your face now.

Recently, I've found myself stepping in puddles. Puddles of pee that is. Gross, yes I know. Apparently, I have a puppy in my house?? No, not a puppy...a 3 year old who likes to use her new found potty training abilities to control me. At first, I used to have to stop what I was doing, clean it all up, be nice and show her where the toilet is and what to do...now, after I found out its a fucking game to her, SHE gets to clean up the mess AND clean the floor. The problem is that she waits to long to go to the bathroom. She refuses to go when I ask her. So then I see her doing THE dance. This isn't your average little kid dance where they are trying to bounce up and down, stomp their feet and clap their hands...No, Ellie's pee-pee dance is quite funny. She runs around in circles. So if you're ever at our house or babysitting her and she starts running in circles...she has to pee. Every now and again though...I step in a puddle.

Moving on to more important topics (This next one is a total Ellie classic)
We've *(and by we I mean ELLIE) had the pleasure of identifying body parts. She loves the song, "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" ... in addition to those, she has asked about her and Wyatt's different private parts. (Already, I know, you're probably laughing because really, 3 year olds and talking about private parts...it's not private. She asks publicly ALL the time, SO fucking embarrassing...but I'm keeping count.)

Ellie: "What's THAT???" (pointing to Wyatt's wiener)
Me: "That is Wyatt's private part, it's called a penis"
Ellie: "PENIS????? HAHAHAHAHAA!!!! WyWy has a Penis!?" (I'm already giggling as Im changing him and she's watching )
Ellie: "Do I have a penis?"
Me: "No sweetheart, girls have a vagina, and boys have a penis"
Ellie: "A gina??"
Me: "Va-va-Vagina" (and then I'm thinking...should I really be teaching her this word?? But whatever, it's the scientific term, and I'd rather her say vagina, then some of the other terms that its called)

She kind of loses interest at this point...until the other day, when we had our friends Julie and Brian over... Ellie asks Julie...whispering..."Do YOU have a vagina?" and while Julie and I were starring at each other, laughing inside and trying not to draw too much attention to what Ellie had just said, she replied...whispering..."Yes, Ellie, I do."

So there you have it. Vagina.