You know when something happens and at the time it's kind of shocking and/or stressful, then afterwards it's simply hilarious? That just happened.
I was just sitting down to type something on here. To give an update to how the day is going and about all my incredibly exciting life events that I know you all want to read. All of I sudden I hear water running behind me. Except that there's no water source behind me. This does not bode well.
"Mommy! I'm peeing!" whines Gutsy.
I turn to find my little man standing behind me with daddy's electric guitar strapped around him like a member of an 80s hair band, urine pouring out the side of his shorts because he decided to go commando underneath (read: sans underwear - he does this frequently. I have a feeling he'll also drive a love van when he's older).
So I "run" (I don't run at six months pregnant, but you get the idea) toward him, scoop him up, slip on a puddle of disgustingly hot pee and almost fall to the floor. Me, Gutsy and an electric guitar, all sliding on a puddle of pee.
At the time: chaotic.
Now: Discusting and hilarious. And maybe it's because I've been caring for children too long, but I can't honestly say I find it more disgusting than hilarious.
So that's over now. Nobody smells like urine.
***
It's damn humid outside. So humid, in fact, that after our daily trip to the park/mommy's coffee fix excursion, I had to take a puff of Ventolin. My lungs were killing me. Jackson (Mr. Jackson if you're nastay) is getting taller all the time and loves kicking my diaphragm. Hard. What a little angel.
Daycare update: Daycare girl is sleeping. I had - get this - 1 1/2 hours of interrupted break. This is, like, unheard of. I'm thinking of calling all my current and previous daycare provider friends and bragging, but they wouldn't believe me. That's like telling your fishing buddies that while they weren't around you caught a fish <----- this big ----->.
However, karma then bit me in the ass (which isn't hard to find these days. My ass, not karma.) by making me slip on someone else's fresh bodily fluids. Nothing is for free, baby.
Earlier today, I predicted pummelling and a grumpy Gutsy. I was correct. The fight started over the tent in the backyard. Well, not the tent, but the tent accessories (I really want a reason to say 'propane and propane accessories'. Hank Hill is my hillbilly hero). One sleeping bag does up better than the other sleeping bag, which resulted in not only some hitting, but Daycare boy being shoved down a couple of deck stairs. Ouch. Needless to say, Gutsy had some 'splainin' to do and a major apology session.
I'm going to try not raising my voice to my children as much. You know, speak calmly and all that. I hear it's a 'choice' to do that. I would like to state that it's a difficult choice in my world. There's a fine line between making sure they can hear me (not an easy task, especially when hearing aids are not on) and yelling. But I'm going to try not to yell out of anger. I don't know why I've decided to do this during the hottest part of the year while pregnant, but maybe it's one of those 'If I can do it now, I can do it any time!' sort of things.
You can stop laughing now. I know it's funny, but it's more productive to take bets to see how long I'll last. I would bet in hours, not days. Just a tip.
Well, back to the real world now. I'm watching the boys do acrobatics about three feet from where the pee was. Should I tell them? Let's see how nice they're being, first *grin*
I was just sitting down to type something on here. To give an update to how the day is going and about all my incredibly exciting life events that I know you all want to read. All of I sudden I hear water running behind me. Except that there's no water source behind me. This does not bode well.
"Mommy! I'm peeing!" whines Gutsy.
I turn to find my little man standing behind me with daddy's electric guitar strapped around him like a member of an 80s hair band, urine pouring out the side of his shorts because he decided to go commando underneath (read: sans underwear - he does this frequently. I have a feeling he'll also drive a love van when he's older).
So I "run" (I don't run at six months pregnant, but you get the idea) toward him, scoop him up, slip on a puddle of disgustingly hot pee and almost fall to the floor. Me, Gutsy and an electric guitar, all sliding on a puddle of pee.
At the time: chaotic.
Now: Discusting and hilarious. And maybe it's because I've been caring for children too long, but I can't honestly say I find it more disgusting than hilarious.
So that's over now. Nobody smells like urine.
***
It's damn humid outside. So humid, in fact, that after our daily trip to the park/mommy's coffee fix excursion, I had to take a puff of Ventolin. My lungs were killing me. Jackson (Mr. Jackson if you're nastay) is getting taller all the time and loves kicking my diaphragm. Hard. What a little angel.
Daycare update: Daycare girl is sleeping. I had - get this - 1 1/2 hours of interrupted break. This is, like, unheard of. I'm thinking of calling all my current and previous daycare provider friends and bragging, but they wouldn't believe me. That's like telling your fishing buddies that while they weren't around you caught a fish <----- this big ----->.
However, karma then bit me in the ass (which isn't hard to find these days. My ass, not karma.) by making me slip on someone else's fresh bodily fluids. Nothing is for free, baby.
Earlier today, I predicted pummelling and a grumpy Gutsy. I was correct. The fight started over the tent in the backyard. Well, not the tent, but the tent accessories (I really want a reason to say 'propane and propane accessories'. Hank Hill is my hillbilly hero). One sleeping bag does up better than the other sleeping bag, which resulted in not only some hitting, but Daycare boy being shoved down a couple of deck stairs. Ouch. Needless to say, Gutsy had some 'splainin' to do and a major apology session.
I'm going to try not raising my voice to my children as much. You know, speak calmly and all that. I hear it's a 'choice' to do that. I would like to state that it's a difficult choice in my world. There's a fine line between making sure they can hear me (not an easy task, especially when hearing aids are not on) and yelling. But I'm going to try not to yell out of anger. I don't know why I've decided to do this during the hottest part of the year while pregnant, but maybe it's one of those 'If I can do it now, I can do it any time!' sort of things.
You can stop laughing now. I know it's funny, but it's more productive to take bets to see how long I'll last. I would bet in hours, not days. Just a tip.
Well, back to the real world now. I'm watching the boys do acrobatics about three feet from where the pee was. Should I tell them? Let's see how nice they're being, first *grin*