all images © Meghan Boyer Photography

Saturday, December 8, 2012

A Mother's Request

My mother called to tell me that she is embarrassed by my poop stories.  Which is ironic.  Because every time I talk to her, I have the urge to poop.  This stems from my college days.  When I called her every day after lunch.  Lunch in the dining hall.  So I struggled and I struggled tonight.  I will not write about poop.  I will not write about poop.  I will not write about poop. 

I had a two hour, morning break, from two children.  A week and a half ago.  What would I do with this Single Threat time?  Poop. Get my oil changed.  There is nothing like fresh poop fluids.  I went to Sears Auto Center.  It's at the mall, instant Dempsey entertainment.  Sears said no.  They were too busy pooping.  Mr. Sears said afternoons were best. 

This past Wednesday, I show up with my full brood at 2pm.  After noon.  Mr. Sears says the oil change will take 3 hours.  I ask when is the best time to come?  He looks right at me and says Tuesday or Wednesday afternoons.  Except during the holiday season.  Mr. Sears Poop Number Two, interrupts from the other counter.  He corrects Mr. Sears.  It will take two hours today.  I instantly like Number Two.  I give Mr. Sears my cell phone number.  He asks for my home phone number to look up my account.  I concede, but tell him that we no longer use our home phone.  He reminds me that lots of people don't use their home phone anymore.  However, he still needs it in case they need to leave me a message.  Which works out perfectly...since I don't use it anymore.  I request the regular oil.  Mr. Sears reminds me that he already knows this.  That's why he looked up my account.  With the home phone number.  The one I no longer use.   The same one where Sucks Sears will leave me a message.  I ask if I should leave my cell phone number.   In case the technician needs to call and tell me that my van is about to explode and I'll need new brakes, air filter, and/or some sort of random plug.  While I'm pooping at the mall.  Mr. Sears says they won't have time to speak with me. They're too busy pooping.   They only leave messages.  On your home phone. 

Two hours later, the Triple Treat is full of jelly beans and lollipops and poop.  Two times waiting in line for Santa.  Never actually making it to the front of the line.   Six times taking shoes off.  And putting them back on.  Three times visiting the bathroom.  To poop.  One time trading my coupon for a free pair of underwear at Victoria's Secret.  While the children fondled Victoria's secrets with their poopy sticky hands.

Driving home from Sucks Sears, I notice the heat isn't working.  Poop Cool air is blowing from the vents.  By the time we reach home, the air feels warm.  I forget about it.

Thursday morning I start up the van, preparing for double school drop offs.  Thirty minutes later we all fumble in.  It's freezing.  Thirty degree outside and inside.  No heat.  Poop.

Within the hour, the van has been dropped off for repair, not at Sucks Sears, and Enterprise is picking us up.  Love.

Dempsey and I arrive at preschool, in our rental, to reclaim Grady.  Grady's teacher calls us into the classroom.  Grady hadn't made it back from the playground in time.  He peed in his pants.  Dempsey, Grady, and I filter into the bathroom.  I set Grady on the toilet to finish peeing and pull his change of clothes from his backpack.  Dempsey chucks something into the toilet.  The one filled with Grady's pee remnants.  It's the rental van keys.  Two of them.  Since those Enterprise people were kind enough to give me a spare.  The automatic ones.  With buttons only.  No metal key for this mom.  The kind with a computer chip.  That costs hundreds of dollars to replace.  Times two. 

I fish the expensive keys computers from the pee water.  With my bare hands.  I'm too afraid to rinse them.  I dry off the pee with a paper towel.  It worked.

The repair shop calls.  When Sucks Sears checked my fluids, they neglected to replace the radiator cap.  Coolant leaked out.  The heat didn't work.  I shouldn't be surprised.  A couple of years ago I purchased a new tire after the original was punctured by a nail.  Sucks Sears actually replaced the wrong tire.  I don't learn the first time around.  That's why I have three children.  And darn it if every single one of them doesn't poop pee.

In the end, I just couldn't listen to my mother.  The Triple Threat don't listen to me.  I learned it from watching them.  Poop.  Poop.  Poop.  I think I'll tell her to call my home phone next time. 

Just kidding mom.  I love you.  Now I have to poop.  Call me.  xxxxoooo


Lillian's Nativity scene set up.  Jesus has returned.  Uninjured.  I'm sure he nearly pooped himself during the recent Baby Jesus sibling bashing incident.






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