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Well, it all started harmlessly enough. John was scurrying as fast as he could all day at work trying to get home at a decent time to take me out to eat. This is no small feat when you work for a gigantic grocery store chain and it is 2 days before Mother’s Day. He went in at 6:00am and was tearing home at 7:00pm. Typical 13 hour day. Whatever. Anyway he was driving behind one of our good friends when he got close to home so he called him and asked if he and his wife wanted to go out to eat with us as it was my birthday. To which he said they probably would if wife hadn’t cooked anything. She hadn’t so we met up with them at their house and were going to leave as soon as their son showed up to pick up their grand-baby. He came along in about 20 minutes and had a friend with him. My girlfriend then asked if the three of them would like to come too . Oh well.

It turned out pretty well. We really did have a nice time and the baby is much better behaved now than he was the last time we were saddled with trying to eat with him. He is really a cute, sweet little boy, but it is just too easy for my friend to give him ALL of her attention. Apparently that wasn’t necessary last night and I guess he is past that point now. We were seated so that the 4 of us were at one end, (Along with the baby of course.), and her son and friend were at the other, so we got to talk and it was pretty close to old times. We had margaritas and some really good Mexican food and we all went home happy.

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It is 1:30pm and if I don”t get out side and WEED THE FLOWER BEDS today, well, there may be no tomorrow! Just waiting for the old lady to poop and I am outta here! There is a light misting, (misting?) of clouds and it won’t be that hot. This is me thinking positively.

COME ON POOP!

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I want to know what is up with my eyelashes. They used to be long and curl up, especially when I put on mascara. Now, like in the past year and a half, they are significantly shorter and are straight as a board. Even with mascara. I have tried to curl them with one of those torture devise looking things and they are very stubborn, now. They just go back straight almost immediately.

Is 45 really that old?

I am in a cranky mood and everything is getting to me today. Stuff that I usually just ignore. I took H in to use the bedpan and when I was leaving the room she said, “I’ve got my bell here, I’ll call you when I’m done.” I felt like yelling, “Of course you’ve got your bell! I have never hidden you bell! That is where your bell lives and it is always there! Yes, I know the drill because for three and a half years I have been depositing you on the bed pan and getting you off when you ring the bell. I KNOW YOU ARE GOING TO RING THE BELL WHEN YOU ARE DONE! WHY MUST YOU ANNOUNCE IT AS IF I DON’T KNOW THE RULES TO THE GAME AND HAVE NEVER PLAYED BEFORE. ARE YOU AFRAID I AM GOING TO RUN IN HERE AND YANK YOU OFF THE POT MID-SHIT? CAUSE, HEY LADY, I CAN ASSURE YOU THAT THAT IS THE EXACT KIND OF MESS THAT I HATE TO CLEAN UP AND I WILL DO WHATEVER I CAN TO KEEP IT FROM HAPPENING! YOU COULD MAKE THE GAME SOOOO MUCH MORE ENJOYABLE BY RESPECTING THE FACT THAT I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING AND AM NOT A COMPLETE MORON. not completely.

Then I went upstairs and…eh, “picked up” my 17 year olds room. I took out a metric ton of trash and threw the duvet up on the bed and piled up all the clothes she needs to sort through to determine clean/dirty. Some stuff was still carefully folded, (by ME), and other stuff was obviously worn. Not my problem. But I basically got the room ready to be organized. I might point out that she has had another little girl living here with her for a couple of weeks and that has significantly added to the mess problem. This chick is not going to be here for that much longer and the room had better not ever get in this condition again.

But, anyway, she and same girl came flouncing in after school and trotted their happy asses up stairs to change clothes for work and trotted back down and left and NEVER SAID ONE WORD TO ME. NOT “HI.” NOT, “BYE.” NOT, “KISS MY ASS.” NOTHING.

Today is my birthday and the little brat didn’t even wish me happy birthday. I may kill her, clean up her room, and take it over for…something, for me. Yes. That’s the new plan.

And who, amongst us, hasn’t had one? (Please understand that if you cannot even begin to “get” where I am coming from, I really don’t want to hear how you resent being subjected to poop stories…)

Ever heard anyone say they have had a shitty day? I bet you have and I also bet you have immediately pictured them running late for work or getting chewed out by a boss or customer or them spilling coffee on their clean white shirt. But, did it ever occur to you that they might mean shitty day? There are those of us who are not in the septic tank business that deal with a good deal of it. Shit, that is. Some people are paid to deal with it, as in hospital orderlies, and some of us just get stuck with it. Sometimes there is a lot of it. Henrietta has a Miralax habit that borders on addiction. She cannot do a poo without it. And if the stars are not aligned exactly right she may be gonna be plugged up even with it. She doesn’t usually go too long like this and isn’t too terribly uncomfortable. But, after not going for three days, Katy bar the door. We are trucking back and forth to the bedpan over and over, with false alarms. She is working fervently at it and will not stay in bed to do it. So I am stuck hauling her in and out of the wheelchair and bed over and over and picking her lower half up over and over and am out of breath all day. There is always an implied urgency with this whole operation that suggests that there will be a shit explosion if I don’t hurry fast enough. Though, to be fair, there has been. Well, virtually.

The other day John came in and we were doing all the running back and forth and he began to feel badly for me and wanted to know if he could do anything. This was toward the end of the waiting period and close to payload time. I was flustered and tired and I whipped open the door to H’s bedroom and shouted down the hall for him and asked him to come and get the bedpan and empty it. Now understand that no one on earth is as squeamish as John. He started down the hall towards me and stopped abruptly and looked horrified and said, “It smells like shit in the hall!” At this point I was walking toward him with the bedpan and I said, “If you don’t take this from me right now, I WILL dump it over your head.”. I think he realized I meant business and he pulled his tee shirt up over his nose, grabbed the bedpan and ran for the bathroom.

I got flowers the next day.

Whatever! LOL
I read a comment on New Duck, yesterday that said that Moo was tagging her. Well, as of Monday morning, anyway. She did. It sounded like a fairly open ended tag, so what the hell. I will enjoy any readership and input from anyone who feels like it!
Here’s the drill:
1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
5. Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.
6. Let your tagger know when your entry is up.

Random, very. (Oh and I forgot and did 10, so consider the last 4 a…bonus?)

1. I am the mother of two, (2) teenage girls, a 17 and 18 year old, and I attempt to operate them daily without a helmet.

2. I am the full time caregiver for my 86 year old mother-in-law, who is bedridden/wheelchair bound.

3. I have found that one of the worst experiences in life is dumping a bedpan of shit and pee in the potty and having the… water? splash back up and sprinkle your face in a fashion that would be somewhat refreshing under totally different circumstances.

4. I have a distinctive case of toenail fungus on the 4th toe on my left foot.

5. I LOVE to read. Favorite author of the moment is Janet Evanovitch. She is hilarious.

6. Have to be one of the WORST spellers on the face of the earth. Thank you God for spell check!

7. My husband, John, is the love of my life and a the biggest, proud-of-it, tightwad I have ever known.

8. My idea of a perfect day is to spend the whole day with my husband and two girls out of the house somewhere and have nobody argue. THE WHOLE DAY. This has never happened. But, I have faith.

9. One of my best friends resides in Italy and I miss her. (Hi Susan!)

10. My mom said to say that she is wonderful and loving and, most important, ALWAYS RIGHT. (Happy Mom?)

Check out these blogs!

The New Girl

Silly Me

Candy’s Corner

Fussy

I’ve Come Undone

Speak Into the Mike

John is off work today and it is 3:20pm as I type this. H has just now made it into the living room. Now we can finally go somewhere, as Keelan is home to stay with her. Oh wait, yes, H has been fed. Yes, she has seen the visiting nurse. Yes, she finally got around to doing the daily poop on the bedpan. This is what we were all waiting for so we could go. Now Keelan has to be at work in 26 minutes.

Crap.

Well, Kes is supposed to be home from work sometime soon….

Yesterday John and I ran to Walgreens to pick up a package of diapers for Henrietta, as we only had two left. While we were there, we got a treat for the dogs. They have the best deal on these big cry-o-vac bones. They are real bones that have a little bit of meat left on them. I guess they are legs from, pigs (?). They’re not big enough to be calves, but still very big and especially for two little dogs. Oh, and the best part is they are only $2.00. Baby and Kissy love them. We usually take the bone out to the garage when we get it and saw it in half for each of them. For some reason I have not come up with yet, I decided to see what would happen if I gave it to them whole. I don’t think Kissy can even pick it up and carry it, but, Baby managed. She absolutely WILL NOT share. As a matter of fact she took it over and is watching it, jealously, at all times. She left it alone long enough to go and visit with Tina, Henrietta’s aide, when she came to give H a bed bath. But she was keeping a close eye on Kissy. As soon as Kissy started sliding over towards it, Baby ran over and cut her off and growled at her. SHE IS SUCH A PIG.

John just called and told me he forgot to get the diapers out of the car before he left and they are now in the back of Kes’s car at Sonic. He stopped there to get a soda and visit with her while she works, before he went on to work. So, I guess what I’m saying is we all have to pull together and pray that Henrietta does not start pooping her diapers today. At least not until Kessa gets home.

That is my goal.

Or, eh, OH GAWD! Thus far today we have only run in, (rolled fast in the wheelchair), to get Henrietta on the bedpan, twice. And bless her heart she feels like she will for sure not get there in time, every time we do this. The first time there was actual….poo. But the second time, (and for the rest of the day), it was just gas. Or, as H likes to say, “It was just gases.” She never has gas, she only “expels gases”. Anyway, she is getting heavier all the time and I am guessing she is up to about 95 lbs now. Oh, I know what you’re thinking. GEE, 95 LBS? THAT’S NOT HEAVY. SHE’S A LIGHTWEIGHT. Shows what you know. I am only one middle-aged woman and you try hauling 95 lbs. of dead weight back and forth from a wheelchair to a bed and back again after picking up the lower half of her and putting the bedpan under her butt and picking her up again to pull it out and picking her up again to put the diaper on and up again to pull her pants up and all cause she had to fart.

It’s enough to make a person go mad. And every once in a while, not often, you understand, but occasionally, I can hear the dogs speaking to one another and they are more often than not talking about me and I could swear they’re conspiring….