Tag Archives: poop

Losing ourselves and loving it

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It is time to revive a theme:  Gross Mommy stories.  Today’s horror story comes to you directly from the bowels of Costa Rica in the lovely town of Atenas.  Missionary friends of ours live out there with their brood of kids and their dog Lucy.  I hope your breakfast has already digested.  

This morning started out normally enough: early to rise, breakfast of homemade banana bread, the juiciest of pineapples, and yogurt (keep this menu in mind as I proceed). The kids had just finished clearing their morning dishes from the table, and Brody and Ashlyn had headed out to lounge in the hammock in the backyard till school started. I was at the sink washing dishes, which so happens to be a chore I don’t mind one bit.

As I watched the two littles perform their normal kid antics, I heard Ashlyn’s voice, full of shock, yell, “What’s Lucy doing?” I looked up and out the window above the sink to see Lucy squatting to accomplish her morning duty in the backyard. What I failed to miss at first glance was what Ashlyn’s sharp little eyes had spied. “Oh mom,” she screamed, “I’m going to throw up!”

I emptied my hands and leaned forward in an attempt to get a better look at what was so horrifying about Lucy’s very normal activity. It was then that I glimpsed it, the very non-typical neon green string, that was very much NOT a normal part of this normal dog activity. Within moments, Lucy seemed to finish up, and quickly began to jaunt away from the scene of the crime. As she did so, something stretched from her backside toward the ground. As her distance from the scene increased, so did the tension in the neon green string. Now taut, something attached to this green string jumped from the ground and slapped the unsuspecting Lucy on the haunches.

Commence the dry heaves and wretches that so often proceed an all out vomit fest…from both Brody and Ashlyn. As Lucy ran, helter skelter, to escape whatever was pursuing her and slapping her as she ran, Brody and Ashlyn came rushing toward the back door threatening to evacuate their stomachs. Ashlyn made it further than Brody, who ended up losing his just-eaten breakfast on the threshold of the back door. I heard Ashlyn make it around the corner into the hallway and it was there that I heard the tell tale splatters on the tile floor.

As I rushed to assist Brody at the back door, Lucy met me as she continued her attempted escape from the neon green assailant. And then the horror, oh the horror! The duet that met me on the threshold was the thing nightmares are made of. Brody, still in the midst of projectile vomiting, with Lucy standing beside him, soiled, neon green sticky frog glued to her side, string still trailing from somewhere deep inside.


It is worth mentioning that for the last few weeks I have had Proverbs 31:25 up on my fridge, as a constant reminder to myself, “She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come” (NIV).

Touché, Lord, for in that very moment I began laughing like never before. I was laughing so hard that big ol’ tears streamed down my face. Meanwhile the retching and vomiting continued in surround sound, Brody before me and Ashlyn behind. All the while Lucy tried to make a mad dash into the house to hide under the kitchen table.

I did all I knew to do in that moment. I shut the back doors. I shut the doors. And I laughed. Oh, did I ever laugh. The situation was unbelievable. Truly, truly, truly unfathomable. Oh if only I could have kept that door shut and not faced the reality of what awaited me on the other side: the clean up and the extrication of the stretchy green frog from the backside of our dog.

My one-day-a-week house helper snapped me from my reverie of insanity, having come running in alarm at what must have sounded like nothing short of pure pandemonium. I retold the story the best I could through giggles, snorts, and dripping eyes. You should have seen Liliana’s face. I saw shock, horror, alarm, hilarity, disgust, and a whole other gamut of emotions pass over her face as I spoke Spanish words I’ve yet to use together, recto (rectum), jugette elastico (elastic toy), pegado (stuck), and vomitando (vomiting). Sweet lady she is, she half-whispered that she would help. “No,” I told her, “no, this is my job.”

I’ll save you the details of untangling the stretchy poo-covered frog from Lucy’s long fur. I’ll also save you the details of the extraction of the string from her innards (suffice it to say that stretching, poo, and being slapped in the hand, rubber-band fashion, were involved). I’ll save you the details of the vomit clean up. I’ll save you the details of the smell. Lawdy, the smell!

Horrific as it all was, this is one story to remember. Epic in portion, outlandish in details, and like no other story I’ve ever heard. Indeed, “these are the days I’ll remember” (cue the 10,000 Maniacs song)!

You can read more of their crazy, wild adventures in missions and life over seas at Jennie’s blog “Losing ourselves and loving it”.

The difference between Dad’s Way and Mom’s Way: or How my husband won a trip to Europe.

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This morning I left the house at 6am and arrived back home at 5:30pm.  The kids were in Dad’s care all day long.  Walking in the house I thought possibly a Midwestern tornado had struck us.  Josh and the two girls were cuddled on the couch watching an old episode of Wipe Out and the boy was no where to be found (he’s a teenager, he hides in his room a lot.).  Not only was the house a disaster, but the water had been turned off all day long because the city was doing some work on a main line.  This left all the toilets full of WWII carnage.  I gagged when I walked in.

“So, what did you guys do all day while I was gone?”  They informed me that they watched a few movies.  I looked around surveying the wreckage of movie watching.  The dinning room table was lost under papers and clothes from the girls’ room, the dog dishes were empty, there were crumbs over every surface of the living room.  Pillows and blankets were strewn in the ruins of a fort.  The dishes were piled high (which can’t be blamed since there was no water.).  The mountain of shoes behind the door had grown feet and walked into the living room.  Upstairs the load of laundry I had dropped on the bedroom floor at 5:45am was untouched and the bed was unmade.  Children’s books and blankies cluttered our bedroom.  I walked back to the kitchen, ignoring the mess, and started making dinner.

**Sigh**.  Welcome home Mom.  We missed you, now get back to work.

Mom’s way is different than Dad’s way.  When I’m home with the kids, the house ends up clean again by the end of the day because I can multitask.  Chores get done and the kids are cared for at the same time.  When Dad watched the kids, I’m just thankful that everyone is still present and accounted for at the end of the day.  Dad’s Way is just different.

Daddy and the girls eating popcorn and watching TV

This reminds me of the time that my husband won a trip to Europe.

For Christmas one year, Josh surprised me with a plane ticket to Prague, Czech Republic.  I had always wanted to go there and that year a friend of mine was teaching English in that city.  Josh had secretly made plans with my friend to surprise me with a trip to visit her.  I was totally thrilled on one hand, and a bit confused on the other hand.  Why didn’t he buy a ticket for himself too?  If it was because we didn’t have the money for two tickets, I didn’t want to seem ungrateful.  If it was because he wanted to spend a week of quality time with our two young children, I didn’t want to take that from him.  But I really would have preferred to travel with my husband.  So I bided my time until I could discern the reason why he only bought one ticket.  And I worried.

Secretly I worried about leaving Josh alone with a 1-year old and a 6-year old for an entire week, and for good reason.

A few nights later I spent the evening bathing the children and getting them ready for bed while Josh sat on the couch like a lump and watched Monday Night Football.  I wanted to take a relaxing bath myself.  So I handed the wet, towel-swaddled toddler to Josh while he sat on the couch barely conscious.  I handed him a diaper and PJs and said, “I’m going to relax in the bath, don’t interrupt me unless someone is bleeding.”  No response from Dad.

A few seconds into my bath I hear a sickening thud followed by intense screaming from our toddler.  She had fallen off a bed and knocked her head on the wooden floor… but no blood, so I didn’t come out of the bathroom.  “I’ll let Dad handle this,” I decided.  A half an hour later I exited the bathroom and was greeted by a naked baby with a sucker in her mouth and red sticky stuff all round her face.

I scooped up the child and carried her to her father.  “What is this?  Why is she eating candy right before bed?  Look, she’s all sticky!  I just bathed her!  And why is she still naked?”  The only response I received to my inquisition was, “She brought it to me, so I opened it.”  Obviously.

Another sigh.  I again scooped up the naked, sticky child and headed towards her darkened bedroom.  With my hands full, I did not turn on the light.  Big mistake.  Suddenly I slipped on something tube shaped, warm and squishy.  “What on Earth?  Did he give her a banana too?”  I thought.  I quickly turned on the lights and to my utter horror I saw my bare footprint in a pile of poo on the bedroom floor!  I gagged.  Dad had let the baby run around naked after her bath and she had pooped on the floor while he sat catatonic in front of the football game.  I was furious!!  There was a very minimal reaction from Dad.  “She didn’t smell poopy.”  No, it looks like it was a clean drop!

Later that night, I carefully brought up the subject of Prague.  Without directly saying, “I fear for my kids’ lives if I leave them with you for a week.”  I asked Josh what he thought about me asking my mom to watch the kids so he could come to Prague with me.  He was absolutely elated… I secretly think the whole “inept at diapering the child” thing was just a ploy to get to come with me to Europe.  Well it worked. And my children are all still alive, thanks to my Mom.  She knows the Mom Way too.