My peripheral vision caught movement as my daughter gasped.
“MOM, one of them is coming!”
I looked up at her and spoke in a hushed tone. “Car salesmen are approaching us like walkers from the Walking Dead.”
I know it is a business but I really would love to just buy a car without having to haggle for the right price.
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?
So, yeah. It isn’t even complicated.
I sneezed. And sneezed again.
There went my tinkle. In my pants.
Not a lot. But who wants pee driblets in your undies or on your pants? Sorry guys, I don’t shake it off. Doesn’t work like that.
The side effects of having babies. Argh!
My legs quivered as I suspended myself above the toilet bowl. No touching the seat! Just a careful pee session.
Then it happened. Gas slipped out.
Why. Do. I. Have. This. Problem.
I wiped myself and went through the motions of zipping, buttoning, adjusting and flushing. All that time passed and the putrid fart odor remained trapped in the stall.
The door swooshed open to announce the arrival of two co-workers. I stood exposed at the sink, obviously the only culprit.
One of them entered my stinky stall.
My stomach flipped. There was only one thing I could do.
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?
It is the middle of the night. I hear a toddler giggle. At first I stared into the darkness in a petrified state, every shadow morphing into a ninja.
Then my brain started to work.
I cannot locate the exact doctor stethoscope toy blurting a decent variety of sounds and phrases EVERY 5 MINUTES.
There is no off button. I would need to unscrew. Yeah, well screw that. I am too tired to do all that! Hope I get used to it soon.
I simply cannot remember. Did I poop yesterday? Or am I constipated? Umm. I was really busy. Every time I had to go, I remember getting interrupted. I think. Or not. Wouldn’t I be extra gassy?
The short path from the kitchen to the bathroom was an endless loop of obstacles. “MOM! She was looking at me!” Or “My neck is dry. I need water. I need water. Mommy. I need water, Mommy!” What was that blob on the wall? A booger? No one confesses.
Midnight arrived. Kids were in bed. Home lunches prepared, kitchen and living room cleaned, paperwork completed and I took advantage of showering with hot water. (Who likes to shower after water hogs?) Brushed my teeth, quickly decided against worrying about tomorrow’s outfit, and sank into bed.
Shit. I forgot to poop.
Don’t do it. Seriously, just hear me out.
Don’t fart in your thong. Does anyone realize what happens?
The sphincter protrudes against your thong. If you are anywhere near having to poop, say hello to the poop kiss left on your thong.
That is all.
I pushed open the door to my daughter’s room. As I strode toward her, she looked up at me sheepishly. I put my arm on her shoulder.
“Mom, I just farted.”
“Oh…I see,” I breathed out carefully, “then I shall only exhale.. ” How lucky I was, that I had not yet refilled my lungs.
My feet shuffled quickly backwards, still slowly exhaling until I spun to dart through the exit.
I made it!
Poking my head around the corner, I sniffed the air a few times. “Oh.” The tendrils of a slightly putrid odor flew up my nostrils.
My feet took me closer to the door and I called out to my 5 year old sitting on the toilet. “Good job!”