Handful of Failure

I gaped in awe at the fattest turd I have ever seen. Who even did that?? Their poor butt hole, I can’t even fathom how that thing exited the sphincter.

The blob sat at the edge of the hole in the bottom, threatening to plug it up. My eyes were bulging in amazement. I double-gloved my right hand and prepared to snatch that atrocity out of the toilet bowl with a strong plastic bag.

My hand posied above the bowl, I flushed the toilet to make the water level drop and let me have a go at grabbing the poop. Quick as a flash, it swooshed into the hole and visibly clogged it.


I readied the plunger. Floop, floop, floop. Nothing. Flush. Floop, floop, floop.

Still nothing. Floop.


Eons later, I admitted defeat. My pinky was burning. I took off the gloves and discovered a blister. A stinkin’ toilet plunger pinky blister.

Oyiee. That sucker hurts.

My kids immediately began complaining about hunger pains the second I emerged from the bathroom. Fine. I sanitized and fought to open a can of refried beans. My hand slipped and sliced pieces of skin from my knuckles.

Bloody beans, anyone?



Relief rushed through my body as a steady stream escaped my nether region. As my bum hovered precariously over the toilet, I heard the door swing open. Footsteps clicked and clacked until the very next stall door snapped into place.

What? Seriously? A billion open stalls in the empty bathroom and someone goes right next to me??

I scowled at the heels shuffling nearby on the floor.  I held my breath and grimaced while squeezing my butt cheeks tight. Please please don’t fart. Why, oh why did I drink that cup of milk. Lactose intolerance is a real thing!

It might be someone from my departmemt.   Heat scorched my cheeks and I felt a sweat break out. I finished peeing and patted myself quickly. 
Panic set in as I worried about whatever accidentally slipped out earlier or worse – smell whatever odor they unleash from pulling down their pants.  

Omg. Does my pee smell like coffee??  I tripped in my attempt to flush with my foot, fly out of the stall and wash my hands before the intruder could see who I am. Run! 

I tore at the paper towel dispenser and bolted out the door just as I heard the stall lock slide. 
Aaaaaaaand she’s SAFE!

That’s how they say it in baseball, right?

Boiled Eggs

It is midnight. I am pacing around the house, trying to stay awake while I wait for these eggs to boil. 

My kid needs to bring in 2 boiled eggs to dye at school tomorrow.  But I forgot to do it earlier, of course! I forced myself to roll out of bed as soon as I realized I was about to epically fail again. 

So, here I am. Pacing around. Pausing to stare at these eggs in a pot.  Basically feeling like a zombie trying to impersonate a human. 

Igghhhhhhj aaaaggahahaha I am exhausted!

Mom, what’s this red thing?

My kids like home lunch. I’m not very good at including a desirable variety of items. It’s not usually a surprise to them about what I might include.

I was caught off guard when my brother noisily searched the remains of my kindergartener’s lunch bag and asked me what the red thing was. He likes to tease me about the “junk lunch” I provide, so I wasn’t paying very much attention… until my daughter asked, “Mom, what’s this red thing?”

My head jerked up and I looked for the alleged red thing. I have no idea what it could be. My brother held up a ziplock bag full of what appeared to be red salsa. But I never ever give my kids salsa. What the heck was that?

I reached for the bag and sniffed at the contents from the outside of the ziplock bag. I nearly retched all over the floor from the horrid odor.

The mystery bag was quickly thrown into the trash as I puzzled over the contents.

Ah hah. I switch out the lunch bags periodically to match the backpack. Sometimes I just can’t find the lunch bag so I use a new one. I apparently neglected to empty the bottom compartment of this particular lunch bag for weeks. The original items in the ziplock bag were tiny wheels of cheese covered in red wax. They must have melted over time.

I felt so badly for my child having brought out the Red Food bag at lunch time, wondering if she had tried to eat that gross thing in front of her friends. Sometimes, I am absolutely mortified at my horrible mothering skills.

Are you gonna eat this?

I gathered dishes and food from the table and walked toward the kitchen.  As I passed my mom, a thought occured to me. “Mom, are gonna eat this?”

She took a few steps forward to inspect what I offered.  The baby bowl tipped forward and we watched the lone plump strawberry fall to the ground. 

My mom spoke slowly, her eyes glued to the strawberry’s new location. I guess because she is a mom, she had to state the obvious.  “No, I am not gonna eat that.”

“Yeah. Okay.” It is just that kind of day. 

The Rumbling


My eyes flicked toward my coworker in the cubicle to my right.  I mentally forced myself to not turn and look straight at his belly.  

It was the embarrassing tummy grumble we all experience whenever it is dead quiet in a room full of non-family members. I insist on pretending I do not hear tummy growls.

He stood up and walked away. I went back to work, quickly forgetting him… and his awkward belly music.

Immersed in my lively data entry, I heard a voice and then noticed his head turned in my direction.  He asked quietly, “What did you eat for lunch?”

My face twisted. “Nothing. I think I should punish myself since I forgot my lunch at home again. What did you eat?”

“Oh, I didn’t eat lunch. My stomach is bothering me. Could it be the milk? My stomach feels…” he lowered his voice to just below a whisper. “Shitty,” he mouthed. “All morning since I had cereal and milk. Going to the bathroom.” He rubbed his stomach soothingly for emphasis.

I looked at him thoughtfully. “Did you check the expiration date on the milk?”

“No, I bought it from the cafe downstairs.” He continued when my puzzled look remained frozen, “They pour milk into the bowl for you.”

“I see. So it is possible they left the milk out for too long. Yeah, you could be feeling yucky from the milk.” 

Since he looked a little doubtful, I sought to reassure him that it was entirely possible. “Places give out expired or bad milk all the time. I cannot tell you how many times kid meals come with expired milk. It depends on the person checking the inventory and it often goes unnoticed.”

My coworker nodded. “Yeah. I am not going back for cereal and milk from there for a long time! Sorry that was so TMI.”

I scoffed. “Nothing is TMI. I am a MOM.” 

Turkey Tale

So… my mom pulls out two turkey breasts from the oven. Someone asks where she got that from, since my brother just finished carving (or hacking) the turkey. She said she cut off the breasts from the turkey before cooking it. She joked that she performed a mastectomy on the turkey.

I didn’t laugh. Rather, I was perplexed. It seemed like an odd thing to do. No wonder my brother appeared to struggle with the turkey. Poor thing. My mom sabotaged him.

Later, I overheard my other brother asking my mom where she got all that extra turkey. He was probably confused, too. I tried to help him out and piped up. “Mom cut it off the turkey before she baked it!”

My mom clutched at her belly, doubled over. I watched her in utter confusion. Finally, she gasped out, “I was joking! I bought extra turkey breasts.”

Omg. Of course you don’t cut off the breasts before cooking a turkey. I felt as stupid as the girl who thought they cooked a pregnant turkey.

Awkward Roommate Moments

1. Someone heads toward the bathroom you just fouled. “Excuse me, ahem, sorry, don’t go in there. You really have to pee? Well, I just don’t recommend it. Really. Please.”

2. “Are these your panties I found on the bathroom floor?”

3. Brother: “You bought me underwear for my birthday?”  Sister: “Yeah, your undies have enormous holes in them. Like right in the balls area.”

4. Your nose crinkles in horror. Did someone fart? Or was that a baby poop?! Ugh.

5. “What is that… smell? Oh. You made dinner. For everyone? Oh, that’s cool. I, uh, um thanks but I just ate.”  You both look down at your stomach when it growls loudly and suspiciously.

6. To brother: “Hey, get my bra off your head.”

7. “No, I wasn’t just making faces at myself and taking selfies in the mirror for the past ten minutes.”

8. The door opens suddenly. Your arms and hands clap over your body parts in horror as you huddle uncomfortably over the toilet. “I’m in here!” You scream out as someone yells back, “Oh my god, lock the door next time!”

9. “Mom! Mom, where are you? Can I have a snack?”  You shout back through the door, “Ask me when I get out of here!” The child’s voice is insistent.  “No, Mom, I’m hungry. Can I have a snack?” Your own voice becomes shrill and exasperated. “No, I’m using the bathroom, can’t you give me a few minutes? And thanks, by the way. Now everyone knows!”

10. That moment a fart slips in front of someone. Oh my.

I’m Breaking Up With You

I bit my lip nervously. This would be the last time we saw each other, probably. Hopefully. Maybe.

I think I will keep this decision to myself until I am sure. I mean, what would people say if they saw us together, later? Would they shake their heads at me with disappointment?

“You are so bad for me.” I whispered. “You weigh me down. You make me feel bad about myself. You make me feel terrible afterwards! Sometimes I hate you!”

Frowning, I muttered out loud. “But you’re so damn addicting. I love you.”

Since this was supposed to be the last time, I wanted to drag it out and enjoy it.

I held it in my fingers and up to my mouth. Salty explosion on my tongue! I moaned out loud and forced my eyes back open. It was over too soon, as usual.

Fricken french fries. No more of these secret meetings! Get out of my life, already! I am never embarrassed to be seen with Salad!

It Wants Me

It’s calling to me. Not by name, because no one says my name unless they are a telemarketer or the doctor’s office confirming an appointment. Plus, it can’t really speak.

I imagine condensation building around the beautiful mocha cylinder. White froth danced in my vision.

I could even taste it sliding down my throat. It wants me, and I want it.

But I didn’t get dressed today before dropping my kids at school. I can’t get out of the car in my pajamas. My girls keep telling me to throw the bottoms away, since the holes expose my butt cheeks (or underwear, if I had clean ones handy).

Not fit to get out of the car, I cursed the road crew blocking McDonald’s drive-thru.

Frappe, they can’t keep us apart forever. See you tomorrow, same time.