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...

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Role models

I'm listening...not for the sound of the birds outside my window, not for the beeping of the coffee maker to let me know my second batch of coffee is done (wellllll, that takes a very close second actually), not even anticipating the sounds of screaming children as they fight over the remotes their not supposed to touch, but do anyways, and it drives me up a wall when the batteries fall out from someone losing the back of the fucking remote...no...I'm listening for the falling of the diaper pail.

We are introducing a new player into the poopscapade war here at Phipps Casa del Rancho de Poop! (I REALLY don't know any Spanish at all and I'm half Mexican, so if I just called our house the Phipps House of Ranch Poop, then we're kinda in the same ballpark me thinks)

Its been almost a year since my last blog...but not without incident I tell you. NOT without a NUMEROUS amount of incidents. Life is just so damn busy these days. A little summary: we bought our dream home, YES!!!! and moved out of that shit-hole of a renter with slum lords and crazy neighbors...here, in Fallbrook, we have SUPERB neighbors...albeit a crazy or two, but not crazy-crazy, just a little quirky. And quirky is cool with me. I can deal with fucking quirky. What I can't deal with is fucking nuts crazy. So we've been bat shit crazy getting the house in order; painting, gardening, unpacking boxes...and this has gone on for almost a year...looking, touring, writing offers, not liking one house, loving THIS one, moving, my Dad passing away (yeaaah, that really sucked), getting Jade switched over to a new school, Christmas, New Years, and dammit, now Easter! (Happy Zombie Day by the way). So to say the least...Ive not time to write as much as I've liked..but I did document! Pictures! A few gems for your pleasuring eyes later, I promise.

Anyhoo, back to the fucking point: shit.

Its always about shit.

Wyatt Clyde is 18 months old now. Ellie is 4. Jade Marie is a whoppin' 10 (Holy crap!! Im old)

Wyatt is my little love. He is just about the sweetest thing every. He is talking so much. Saying all these precious little one word sentences. He's just getting into saying 2 words at a time. But this morning, Easter morning, right after the Easter bunny came and left some beautiful baskets filled with round little chocolates and jellybeans...Wyatt brought me a little brown chocolate present of his own.

Now before I get into details...just think about this: HOW do they KNOW what will TOTALLY gross you out??!!! At 18 months?? HOW do they know??!

And I figured it out this morning while plunging the kids toilet (for the bazillionth time this week):

Role Models.

And WHO is Wyatt's role model???

Fucking Eleanore.

It was SUCH an Ellie thing to do today. I have a bunch of cooking to do, lots to clean up, 3 loads of clean laundry sitting on the couch to fold, coffee in hand, about to get my day going...and a bomb just drops on my lap...literally.

My little sunshine man brings me his softball sized turd he fished out of the diaper pail, holding his little hand out towards my face and looking up at me innocently, saying:


Yes. Ewwwww is right.

Role Models. 

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