Is that Real Poop?

I haven’t written in a while.  I’ve been in survival mode, honestly – I’ve been sick for like a month, my kids have been sick too, but we haven’t necessarily been sick with the same viruses at the same time.  Nate’s been sick as well but not as much as us – high school kids have a lot more immunity than 3 year olds.  He’ll tell you it’s because he uses the same towel for a month.  Whatever.  I’d complain but laundry is an area I struggle to conquer, so I let it grow.

Anyway, so my daughter has some new phrases that she uses when conversing with me.  Yesterday we were discussing something and I asked her a question about the topic and she said, “We are SO done with this conversation.”  She is 4 years old, but I’m beginning to wonder if she’s aging in animal years, like each year must be multiplied by 4 or something. Another phrase she uses is, “If I have to tell you one more time…”  It’s great.  Really.  I guess on the Polar Express she was yelling, “I DON’T NEED NO MAN!!”  I have absolutely no clue where she heard that, aside from some of the staff at my center or some of her peers in her class there perhaps, but I’ve never heard anyone say that there.  Other kids are singing “Jingle Bells” but my kid is standing up for feminism.  Weirdo.

I’ve been making every effort to be on time at work.  My boss was recently diagnosed with breast cancer and she held a meeting a couple weeks back and said it is imperative that we are on time and she kind of went on and on about it and I’m trying.  Now that I’m on antibiotics I’m regaining some of my energy, and have been doing pretty well with time management.  This morning was rough though, and Gage was in the bathroom yelling for me.  I came in there and he said he’d pooped in the potty.  I didn’t see any poop but I figured, maybe it went hiding.  Sorry to give details, but well, you saw the title.  I’m dressed in my uniform for work and I put him on my knee to help him get his pull up off (he wears them to bed) and get him cleaned up and I discover that he had poop hiding and it was now on my pants.  Well, at this point, I wiped at it with a wipe and went flying around trying to get the kids dressed and out the door – they fight me every step – they’re whining in unison – and I say, “Open the door and head for the car.”  Gage must’ve misheard me because he headed for the swingset and lost his boots in the snow and then laid there and yelled for Rory to get his boots.  She was too busy trying to untangle herself from her bookbag (my daughter is all thumbs most days).  So I go scoop up the boy, put him in the car and zoom off.

I get to work LATE.  I try to drop off my son but his regular teacher isn’t in there and he’s not happy.  I take him down the hall and my boss is there with my class.  She asks me how he’s feeling – I had to leave early to take him to the doctor last night (and fell with him in my arms on the ice outside my door) and I said, well he’s on medicine but he pooped on my leg.  It’s been one of those mornings.  She says, “Is that REAL poop?”  LOL – no, I stopped at the fake poop store.

P.S. My ankle may be fractured, stay tuned. 🙂

 

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