Potty Extravaganza

This week has been inspiring for me as a blogger. The depths of honesty and clarity of writing from others in the blogosphere! And the poop! Not to forget about our good friend "peeing in your pants." Oh man, oh man. Right up my alley.

Like pooping in a Wendy's bag, or having a massive case of the runs- in the middle of your own neighborhood. I mean really? This actually happened people. I have the blogs to prove it!

It kinda got me thinking. Pondering, even. Only I can't think of a time when I pooped, or peed, in my pants. Unless you count the times (and there were many) when I was hugely pregnant and sneezed, or laughed, or moved. Might have had some squeege out then.

Or, with my first punk, I may or may not have pooped on the delivery bed. The nurse was there, and she really must have known that I couldn't handle the truth. It happened, and in retrospect I think it did, she cleverly hid it from me. Thank you Ms. Delivery Room Nurse. You helped make my day all the brighter. But really, I don't think pregnant counts for these stories of poop. Poop happens.

I can't believe I'm talking about poop.

So a few weeks ago I took my punks to the pumpkin patch. We had a good ol' time, with the exception of the Whiny Girl in the Pink Shirt that needed a good smack down. And while we were there my littlest punk, Punk #2, really needed to go. In a way that only a three year old girl needs to go. And all there was for her was a port-a-potty. And it was her very first time using a port-a-pot. Potty in a bush? Check. Poop on the beach? Check. Port-a-pot? Nope.

So we get in, and you know what they look like.

But my little Punk had to go. And quickly. I covered the seat with two rolls of toilet paper, and then tried holding her so she hovered above the badness. But she couldn't perform under the stress.

"Momma! Put me down! I gotta potty!"

Gulp.

Alright, fine. I perched her there on the mountain of toilet paper and said "Hold on to Momma, DO NOT TOUCH THE POTTY!

So she perched there clinging to my leg for dear life while she did her duty. And oh what a duty it was. As soon as she was done I busted out the bottle of hand sanitizer and proceeded to give her a sponge bath because she had pieces of TP stuck all over her. Stinky, wet, smelly TP. Gag.

As we finished the head to toe sanitizing and removal of all things TP my littlest Punk looked up at me and said;

"Momma, boys are yucky."

Out of the mouths of babes.

Even at three, this one knows all about the age old issue of boys and bathroom hygiene. I had hoped to spare her that for a few more years.

Theta Mommy: Here it is Ya'll

If you're unsure of what exactly a Theta Mom is, don't worry! I didn't know either. But apparently it means I'm a True, Authentic Mom. As opposed to a Pretend, Authentic Mom, or a True, Forgery Mom. Either way- the word MOM really sums it up, the rest is just gibberish...

I've been "tagged" and so now I am supposed to list 5 reasons why I am a Theta Mom. So, in true B-Dub fashion, I am gonna change things up a bit and make it 5 reasons why I am a Redneck Mom! Cause that's WAY more fun- don't you think?!?!

1. You know you're a Redneck Mom when your little girl gives herself a haircut and you decide to fix it by turning it into a mullet. 


2. You know your a Redneck Mom when you read your kids stories featuring characters named Brer Rabbit and the Tar Baby. Only, suddenly, all the characters start reminding you of people in your neighborhood. Or yourself. Accent included.


3. You know your a Redneck Mom when your kids ask whats for dinner and you respond: Fried Chicken, Onion Rings, and Fried Okra. When they complain about the amount of fried foods you look at them sightly perplexed, and say"How do you cook if you aren't frying? Is this a joke?"


4. You know your a Redneck Mom when your hubby's friends all want you to teach a class called "How to change your oil and spark plugs while frying chicken."


5. You know your a Redneck Mom when you name your kids Punk #1 and Punk #2. Makes it easier. Keeps them in order.


How are you a Theta Mom? Or are you more of a Redneck Mom? Grab a tag and let me know!

Crime and Punishment

Thats the Life Ya'll

Dear Internet,

I was talking to my Charley today. I was feeling pretty bad for him cause he really misses these punks we are raising. One weekend every six months just isn't enough time for him. Apparently. Oh yeah, did I mention that once every six months isn't quite enough for me either. Or the punks. So really, this whole "back in the Army" thing is starting off on totally the wrong foot.

I have been bouncing between North Carolina and Georgia since May. We (the two kids, one smelly dog, and the Frazzled Momma B-Dub) are either at my parents in Georgia or my BFF's house in North Carolina. One or the other. For SIX months. And I really don't want to sound ungrateful BUT I am truly ready, like good and ready, to have my own place again. And to get my kiddo's back on a schedule. And I really won't be sad when I don't have any more road trips with two punks and a stinky dog.

I digress.

Back to feeling really bad for Charley....

So, he sends me a text message, our usual form of communication these days, and tells me a bit about his day. And I quote:

"Yeah, I cleaned. Then I slept. Then I talked with the guys. After that I took a nap and watched part of a movie. Oh, then I shot the crap with the guys again. Now I'm getting ready to go back to sleep. Pretty boring really."

Oh man, oh man. So, lets see here. I have been experiencing guilt because you have this crappy Army job that keeps you away from us. And you have to do crappy things like, say, a 15 mile ruck march. Cause lets face it, there is NO WAY that this B-Dub would EVER do a 15 mile ruck march. And I mean never, ever, not in a million years. Poor Hubby. He does have it rough.

Except that he gets to take naps. And hang out with his friends. And watch movies. And then, after all that, he gets to hang out with the guys again. Poor, poor, Charley.

And now I will enter into a period of pity. Join me in the pity party for one. Only if you join it won't be for one but you know, what-ev.

Cause I don't get to hang out with the guys, or watch movies, or TAKE NAPS!!!! And I don't ever get away from my kids. Which I have decided, Dear Internet, is essential to maintaining sanity. Don't get me wrong, I love the punks in all their punky entirety with every fiber of my being. But sometimes they do get a little annoying. They haven't heard the expression "Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder."

And then I start thinking that we should have switched places. Like, maybe, I could have gone off to some cool Army school and left him home with the kids. Only without the home part- cause we aren't sure where we are gonna be stationed and I wasn't staying in Montana all by myself.

Then I got another text. He said he was glad to have today off because tomorrow is another 10 mile run. And then I remembered how much you could never, ever, pay me enough money to run 10 miles IN A ROW! Like all at one time! Or ruck for 15. Or deploy to Iraq twice, and miss the birth of our littlest punk during the second one because they couldn't let you come home right then. Or about how he just found out that he is going to deploy again in the spring. And he is gonna miss out on seeing these punks for another year.

Well, so much for my pity party. I talked myself in a complete circle because now I am feeling bad for him again. Because he is missing out on some great stuff. He has to spend more holidays alone. Because we all need him, and others like him, to keep us safe. And there isn't anything much harder than what they volunteer to do.

But mostly because he has to run 10 miles tomorrow.

Love,

A Once Again Army Wife.

p.s. I would like to add that I have some wonderful frineds who took me out dancing this weekend. And I love dancing. I learned some new line dances and everything! It was a blast, so really, don't feel too badly for me. Sometiems I just need to vent.
B-Dub