WTF? Toilet time please?!



Why after 21 years of surviving motherhood have I not learned that there is no such thing as peace and quiet….not even while dropping a deuce.  Seriously, after three days of being laid up in bed with the “pnumonie death” as my memaw would say, why would I think that things would be “okay” when I finally crawled out of bed?  I’m not joking today tops it all….it takes the mother fucking cake y’all.  I woke up at 3:30 and realized I had not finished time sheets that were due at 6am this morning so while I’m hurling into the almighty white throne I am also bent over to the side filling out these dumb ass papers.  Then Mittens decides since mama cat isn’t in the bed to snuggle with that she will get up to see where the party is at.  Then after hurling and dancing with the Mitts until she is back to sleep I look down to find the Daisy dog looking up at me  and I can just hear her saying in her “British” accent (since she is from England) “Mum….I have to go tinkle”.  Out the door we go before I have time to throw on the shoes (okay so I forgot to throw on the shoes…who the hell is outside at 4:30 am anyway) and guess what? SURPRISE IT SNOWED  last night.  Really?  We have had rain, thunderstorms, and 60 degree temps all winter except for a few days and now of all nights it decides to snow?  Yep, barefoot with the dog for a dookie drop first thing in the morning really gets you going (and also kicks the “pneumonie death” back into overdrive.  Now…time sheets finished, dog dookied, Mitts asleep….time for me, right?  Hell to the no.  The house which I left in immaculate condition on the day I encountered the terrible germ has now gone to shit.  There are dirty dishes up to my elbows and the dishwasher is full…of clean dishes which obviously no one could put up.  There are three bags of trash sitting beside the trash can which is of course full of trash.  Toys are scattered all over the living room as I soon find out because I slide like Tom Cruise (Risky Business) across the floor after I slip on a freakin piece of toy food (plastic toast) and make a nice landing on the couch (Oscar worthy moment).  Nope, I didn’t have on the sexy button down white shirt….  So, after I manage to piece my living room and kitchen back together I go to take the laundry down and then this is where I have a complete cardiac arrest.  There is a mountain of laundry that is piled up to the top of my washer.  No shit, I am by no means exaggerating.  This is the largest pile of clothes I have ever seen.  I start to sort them and in the end I come out with 10 loads of clothes, 1 load of sheets, and two loads of towels.  How in the name of Buddha does one family mess up that amount of clothes in three days?  Technically two days seeing as how I washed three loads on the day I encountered the deathly germ.  After hours upon hours of housework and laundry (which may I add is still not finished) I finally sit down to do my homework.  Yep…no not getting that finished.  Now, I have a very hungry grandbaby to attend to, a wild Mittens who is dancing in circles, a dog who is begging to go back outside into the snow, and not to mention drama queen who has just got in from school.  Well, okay so the “urge” hits me.  Yes, this terrible illness that started out as a cold, then moved on to “pneumonie death”, and then to some vile vomiting has now took a u-turn to the south pole and I race to the bathroom like one of those screaming dumb ass chicks who are running through the woods trying to escape the serial killer behind them (who even though he walks very slowly yielding his knife, gun, pick ax,…..whatever still manages to catch the girl and kill her).  I get in there rip off my britches and think to myself….awwww  five minutes of peace and quiet.  I grab a magazine of the hubs (hot rods with half-naked chicks) and prepare myself for me time (even if it is on the toilet).  Then it happens… walks the dog who squeezes in between me and the wall.  Hello Daisy….no don’t mind me at all….I’m just taking a shit.  Not two seconds later here comes DQ… who feels the need to tell me I have to sign two forms (that she forgot to get signed) so she can go on some field trips at school and then slips into her 90 mile a minute story of everything that happened today.  While she is in the midst of her story (that couldn’t wait until I got off the shitter) here comes Mittens yacking “hi, dada, hi, dada” and demands to get up into my lap.  Nope, that isn’t all, Miss moody decides to come join the party.  She walks on in with Mr. B in her arms screaming like he hasn’t eaten in days and says “mom, I think he is hungry”.  Well no shit sherlock!!!!  Okay, so my five minutes of peace and quiet was shot to hell in a matter of 30 seconds by a lonely dog, a non-stop talking drama queen, a terrible two’s toddler, and a 21 year old who acts like the three month old she is supposed to be caring for.  I just sit there and begin to laugh first to myself and then louder and louder.  I laugh so hard tears are running down my cheeks (the ones on my face).  Mittens jumps down outta my lap, DQ looks at me like I have lost all of my marbles, and Miss Moody just turns around and walks out because she knows…she has seen this look many times.  I then throw my hands up in the air and begin to have a breakdown.  In between the tears and laughter I manage to yell “please get out of the bathroom right now before I stuff every one of you head first into the toilet bowl…..and flush just for fun”.

DQ:  Seriously mom?  Geez all you had to do was shut the door.

Me:  Really?  Like that has ever stopped you before!!!

DQ:  Oh yeah, I know right.  Sorry, it won’t happen again (for the 1000th time)

So, yeah, even though it has happened to me for 21 years I guess it just never ceases to amaze me.  It looks like that is the one place that they would leave you alone but WRONG.  They don’t care if you are peeing, puking, or taking a dump….they are going to be right there beside you watching your every move and even holding your hand or sitting in your lap.  You know why?  Your a mother that is why.  I wonder what the “dads” would do if this shit happened to them?

Someday I hope for this……


2 thoughts on “WTF? Toilet time please?!

  1. WORD! Laptime every time! But I look back on times with my mom, and her bathroom became our “conversating” place, because the ‘boys’ didn’t come in! We always talked on the phone when we were in the bathroom too! We will look back on these times fondly as we grow older…but for now, can I get a family free 5 minutes??? Nope…Love this post!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s