The other day, I went into the living room to escape from my children and noticed there were plush toys scattered all over the place. I had just cleaned the living room a mere two hours before and seeing this child paraphernalia all over the blasted place annoyed me.
“Caleb!” I hollered.
Kayla came running in, “Yes Mommy?”
“No, CalEB,” I said. Naming your kids Kayla and Caleb is a dumb idea. So much confusion.
Caleb came running in, roaring and grunting because at that moment, he was The Hulk.
“Did you bring all these toys in here?” I asked him.
“I am The HUUUUULK!” he bellowed and punched the sofa.
“Yes, I am aware,” I told him, “Did you bring these toys in here?”
“NOOOO,” he said in his Hulk voice, “ABBEY DID IT.”
Ugh. It’s like when Makayla would blame her indiscretions on Archibald and Stephon when she was little.
“Abbey did not do this,” I said, “Pick them up.”
The Hulk took off his mask and said in his Caleb voice, “Mommy, Abbey really did it. I didn’t bring these in here.”
“Abbey really did do it,” Makayla said, “She should take them back.”
“Abbey did not bring Y’ALLS toys in here,” I said, “pick them up.”
They picked them up and Caleb glared at the dog which I thought was a little dramatic. The next day while the kids were in school, I dusted the living room then went into the kitchen to play with my crock pot. I went back into the living room to get my phone and yelped because there were plush toys all over the place. I am a total tool and this is why: for a split second I considered there might be a ghost in my apartment. And I got spooked the shit out. Until I saw Abbey trot in with a plush toy in her mouth, drop it on the carpet, and run back to the kids’ room for another.
“By DOG!” I yelled, “You are a genius! It really was you!”
Her reaction was to run to me, this time with her leash and then run to the door and howl. Like a bonified coyote. This is how she lets it be known she needs to pee or poop.
I took her outside and she did her business and I told her we both owed the kids an apology.
“You can’t go around framing the kids,” I told her, “they have it hard enough already without being framed by their k-9 companion. Uncool Abbey, very uncool.”
Anyway, the past forty eight hours have been horrible. A week after having some flu/cold thing, we all three came down with a stomach flu. It started at the park. I had already had my daily run with Abbey and went back home to get the kids and their new Husky puppy, Taylor Swift the Second. Taylor Swift the Second is only seven weeks old and I don’t trust her to not poop in the car and she can’t run with Abbey and me, mostly because I am not athletic enough to run with two dogs on a leash at once. Plus a seven week old pup could not keep up with Abbey and me. Abbey and I are like seeing a blur go past you when we run; we are THAT fast. Anyway, I went and fetched my offspring and then the pup and went back to the park. We love the park. We are there so much I am sure people think we are homeless and live there. During my earlier run, I had cut it short because I kept getting these gross waves of nausea. For a split second I panicked and wondered if I needed to pee on a stick but then I remembered I have not been penetrated by anything that could impregnate me so I wondered if I just needed to eat something. On the way to the park, Caleb said he felt like he wanted to throw up and Makayla said her stomach hurt. Oh no. Sickly children. To test them I said, “OK, we don’t need to go to the park then.”
Instant protests. They were either faking or not too bad off. Suckers.
We got to the park and I realized I was getting light headed and my muscles were aching. My children weren’t running around like cracked out lunatics as is their usual manner, but instead, just sitting on the ground watching everyone else. Oh no.
“Mooooomy,” Caleb moaned, “I have to poop.”
We went to the bathroom and he pooped about ten gallons of runny child poo and needed assistance wiping his butt. It was that bad. And as I wiped his bottom he said, “Mommy…uh oh,”
“What’s uh oh?” I asked and as soon as the words left my mouth, I realized that “uh oh” was Caleb pooping all over my knees and shoos. To wipe his rear I had him bend over and I got down to my knees to see what I was doing and his little butt was positioned over my lap. I wasn’t fazed; I have been covered in child feces before. Caleb used to shoot out his poo after I would unconstipate him and it really would explode onto my lap or chest or head or whatever.
When he saw what he did, he was very upset. Being five means you are very big and strong and good at stuff and pooping on your Mom is something a baby would do. That’s what he said anyway.
“It’s OK,” I told him, “I’ve pooped my pants when I was bigger than five. I did it like a year ago. It happens.”
Yes, I lie to my children. So what? He felt better and I cleaned us up and off we went. At home, we ate soup and all went to lie in my bed. Makayla was moaning. She doesn’t handle being sick well. Neither do I. I wasn’t moaning but I was cursing. My stomach kept cramping and I’d have to run to the bathroom. Then that started happening to the kids. For hours, the three of us had explosive diarrhea and only two toilets. I literally told the kids to poop in the bathroom trashcan if the toilets were occupied so they wouldn’t poop their pants. It was horrible. When I finally felt like maybe I could venture into the world without defecating all over the place, I ran to the store next door for water and Gatorade. I was terrified my offspring were in danger for being horribly dehydrated and I wanted liquid in them ASAP. They were indeed very dehydrated and drank and drank and pooped and pooped until they finally passed out in a heap on top of me. This went on for 48 hours. When we all woke up at three thirty pm today, we were all sweaty, with hair matted to our heads, shaking and dazed. No one was hungry but I had them sip some soup and drink water. They are both exhausted and already wanting to go to bed. This stomach bug was not kidding. The End.
