always on the brink, trying never to show it...

Friday, March 24, 2006

poopy pants

well, I started to talk about my boyfriend, but now he'll have to wait for another day because I just had an incident that I find highly mortifying, which means everybody should know about it.

So here I was, writing about my boyfriend and why that's okay with my husband, when I felt a little, um, gassy. Since I'm the only person in the room (translate that into I really don't care, I would have just let it fly anyway), I went ahead and farted.

Only once I did that, it didn't feel so much like gas. More like, you-better-go-check-your-chonies than just-a-little-gassy.

So I did.

Check my chonies, that is.

And yep, I pooped in my pants.

37 years old. A mere three weeks away from 38. I really should be more ashamed.

Evidently something I ate today didn't sit well because there was more where that came from. Plus, as I sat there looking at my clothing I realized of course that I couldn't put it back on. But my husband is in our bedroom.


So I decided to play it off. I nonchalantly threw my soiled laundry into the washing machine (it's seen worse!), and then sauntered (I may even have swaggered) down the hall, clad only in my t-shirt, saying to myself, "Just act like nothing happened. He'll never notice." Like this kind of thing, me walking around half naked, is totally normal. Just another day in the LB household, deciding to change my chonies.

yep. It's all good.

I walked in to our bedroom, headed to the dresser, opened up the underwear drawer. And then it happened. I took a chance and glanced over at dh, who, never even looking up, said, "Get in the shower and clean your ass."

So I did.

I really should be more ashamed.

But mostly I laughed out loud while he mostly tried to ignore me.

I'm not really sure what it was that I ate...
Everard just made me teary.

Everard makes me insane mostly. Nice guy, nice teacher, not so great on organization or actually putting philosophy into practice.

We went to that conference a few weeks ago on autism and working with students. Granted, there is A LOT of work involved in actually putting what we were being taught into practice. Complete overhaul of the room, all new lesson plans, all new lessons, a significant amount of planning to put into putting the lessons together.

It's taken him awhile to even think about starting it. But he stepped up and came into work last weekend to change his room configuration.

And then he emailed me multiple times early this week to ask for help with a very bright not-so-austistic-but-there's-no-convincing-his-mom-at-this-point child. So I suggested he actually try training the kid in the program we learned.

And he did.

And I just checked my email even though it's Friday evening.

And Everard emailed me thanking me (really, I do understand I had nothing to do with it) for suggesting he train the little guy because the little guy has had a spectacular week and came up to him today asking for his "work".

Way to go Everard! I'm teary just thinking about all the help these kids are going to get now. I could just burst.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

potty humor

Here's one of my favorite recent stories, relayed to me by a family member.

Context; three young girls, ages 3, 6 and 8, taking a bath all together.

6 year old decides it's time to take a dump and hops out of the bathtub to do so. It turns out that her poop is quite rank and rancid, causing the 3 year old's sensitive gag reflex to kick in. As she's gagging, the sensitive in general 8 year old jumps out of the tub as quickly as possible, looking horrified, and runs upstairs to her bedroom. 6 year old finishes up her business and hops back into the tub, just as 3 year old barfs all over everything...water fouled, floor despoiled, father rolling around on floor, laughing hysterically. 6 year old says, "Why is 3 year old barfing everywhere?!" 8 year old sister yells from the bedroom, "Because your poop smells so bad!"

Thursday, March 02, 2006

blech! blech! ptooey!

So I belong to that classmates website. I admit it. I'm a joiner. I like joining things. Feeling joined up. Like I belong.

But mostly I'm nosy. I want to know who is doing what and what that's all about and why, and how can I find out more?

That's why I'm a psychologist. Carte blanche into your deepest, darkest secrets. A little sick, I know. And I have improved over the years, I swear. But I'm still nosy and I think I always will be.

So anyway, I was checking out the site because I've had 313! views to my profile (does it count when I look at my own? I mean, I do that regularly, so maybe I've really only had 20 or so views?) But I got the email that noted I'd had five views just this week, which made me feel really popular and emboldened, and I trotted right on over to check me out.

And after I checked me and my popularity (turns out, not so much) out, I decided that I might as well look at the general message boards. Sometimes I see people I know there...I clicked on the message boards thingamabobber button. And I checked out the messages.

Ah! There's one from that boy I dated for all of three months freshman year (two of those were summer and if I remember correctly, he was in Mexico on a mission with his church? something or other like that). He married one of my closest friends pretty much right out of high school (gross enough, that) and then just before my senior year of college, four years into his marriage, sidled up to me at a beach picnic and wondered aloud what it would have been like if we'd gotten married instead of them. What?! ew! I gave him the stink-eye with about-to-vomit mixed in and moved away as quickly as possible. A few months later he sent me a love letter, professing his undying love to me! blech! blech! ptooey!

I didn't respond.

It kind of killed my friendship with her too. Just because...well, yuck! Who wants to hang out with someone knowing her husband is, so, well, squicky?! Not to mention probably unfaithful, or, at least, willing to be. And I just take a pass on that kind of weirdness.

But now and again I hear from them...Christmas cards...they came to my wedding ...she (I think it's she, I can never be entirely sure) and I email each other periodically...


So there was a post from him to all of us who went to this high school together. Something about kids from the junior high and elementary schools he attended. I clicked on it, because, as I think I may have mentioned, I'm nosy.

It said, "blah blah blah, so-and-so, so-and-so, blah blah blah." Nobody I know anything about, and even if I did, I probably wouldn't respond because, well, who wants to give fuel to explosive people?

Then there was a response to him from this other very nice boy I've known since kindergarten. We were neighbors growing up. I have no issues with him whatsoever and we correspond periodically. "I don't know if you remember me since we didn't go to the same schools until HS, blah blah blah."

Squick man responded, "Yeah, of course I remember you, you were dating so-and-so and I was dating LB!" whoa there! back the train up! I'm being discussed on a message board at classmates! A little weird for me! That message went on to talk about how adorable my children are, and how great my husband is and how happy he is for me. I mean, he actually wrote "SOOOOO happy for them!" Just like that.

uh, ew!

I couldn't help myself. I had to chime in. It just felt so squicky, walking in on a conversation that was not really about me, but sort of turned into a conversation about me and I made a stupid little, Whoa there boys, be kind! comment that was totally dumb and then backed out of the room and away from the computer.

I should have backed away before I made the posting.

Today, I check email, and Squick man emailed me! What the hell was I thinking? I should have left it alone, acted like I didn't know. I know how to be discreet! Where was my head? See? This is where my tendency toward impulsivity always comes into play and bites me in the ass.

Haven't responded yet. Thankfully there were no undying professions of love involved. I can't imagine that would be the case anymore, we're all a little long in the tooth for that. But I also can't help feeling squicky about it. blech. blech. ptooey.