Foot Long Floaters

 There are just some things about being a mom. . . that I'm not sure get rewarded, other than the fact that it might just be plain and simple pay-back

  I voluntered to give Olivia a bath last night only to hear a loud fart followed by a brown substance coming out her bottom. To which I stand there stupified, wondering how I shall fish it out. I do not have a plastic glove container on my wall beside the door, perhaps I will buy myself one for christmas. Do you take the kid out and then the terd? The terd and then the kid? Do you grab a spoon? A towel? a washcloth? Do you yell at your husband? He typically laughs and doesn't rescue me from my plight, meanwhile the terd is still swimming, I am still standing there. It doesn't get better unless you just dive in, Grab & Run. I don't enjoy it. Never mind the fact that Bodie did the same thing a precious few nights ago.

Something about this makes my nerves jingle.