Look before you sit!

So...last week was a pretty craptastic week, to say the least. It was one of those weeks when everything you touch falls apart, everything you say comes out wrong, or you trip on smooth carpeting in front of 10 of your co-workers, and you walk out of the public bathroom with a very long piece of toilet paper hanging off of your shoe. That kind of week.

So, on one of those days, I came home, tired...the house is a wreck. There is nothing to eat. My youngest child is whiny, and will remain so until I feed him. My oldest child needs a ride somewhere, which will not be conducive to getting the youngest to quit whining. I just wanted to go and lay in a nice relaxing calgon bath. Instead...

I take Kayla where she needs to go, which is not anywhere near the house, come back, feed Cole, clean up the mess that my wonderful husband and equally wonderful daughter left for me in the kitchen, despite the fact that neither of them had ANYTHING to do all afternoon. But, I digress..

After I get the kitchen cleaned, I tackled all of the messes in the living room, again...that I did not make. Crushed up sunchips all over my end tables, some gooey substance stuck to my coffee table, 2 empty Capri Sun's stuffed in between my couch cushions, and about 15 other things that looked questionable. I then decided to vacuum the majority of the house as I noticed that my socks looked a little "hairy". I am sure that it has nothing to do with the fact that I was dog sitting my dad's 100lb Chocolate Shedding Lab. Good thing I love him too. I had two loads of clothes to fold that had been thrown on the treadmill, I don't guess either of the above mentioned wonderful people knew about that either.

Finally, around 12, past the point of exhausted, I was ready to go to bed. Jammies are on, my face has been washed...I just needed to use the little girls room, and I was done for the day. Halleluah.

So, there I am...sitting on the potty (as it we call it for the benefit of our 3 year old), contemplating the crappious day, I quickly finish my business...look down...and OH HOLY HELL WHAT IS THAT???

I jump up, start screaming!!!.... I tried to run away, but in my haste, I had forgotten to pull up my pajama bottoms and I toppled over, splatting my face onto the floor with my bare butt sticking straight up in the air. Undeterred, I army crawled onto the carpeting pulling my bottoms up simultaneously.

Now that I was properly dressed, and slightly hyperventilating...I decided to go back and give it a closer inspection...this is what I saw on the INSIDE of the bowl, just underneath the rim when I looked down:


Yeah...that's right! That was not even "2" inches underneath my dangling butt. I guess that it had been hanging on the rim as I never saw it when I sat down, and crawled onto the bowl while I was seated. So, I did the only thing I could think to do.

I grabbed my camera. lol...


After taking several shots, I then got the camera phone and snapped a few more to send to my husband. You see, he was on duty...and despite the fact that he was working, I wanted him to share in my misery. That's what married couples do.

(Do you agree to have and hold this person, sharing in their misery until such time that you both shall part? Yes I do.)

Not to mention, I was trying to prove yet another point that he needed to *DO SOMETHING* about the dayum spiders in this house!!!

After he recieved the text, he immediately called and asked what I was going to do about it. Ummm...what do you mean, what am *I* going to do about it? Killing bugs is YOUR job.

He asked if I wanted him to come home and kill it. I could tell by the sound of his voice that he really didn't want to...because he is a REAL titty baby when it comes to spiders, so I already knew that he was going to be worthless in this situation. In truth, he was laughing about the fact that I was seriously freaking out. I had the worst case of willies I have had in a really long time.

I forced him into listening to my mini-rant for several minutes, all the while he continued laughing. I mean, what IF that thing had jumped on my butt? Worse...what if it had jumped on my cooter? Huh!!?? THEN WHAT??

(hmm...I don't seem to be garnering the sympathy I was looking for here...I need to switch tactics.)

Lloyd...what if it was YOU sitting on the toilet and that spider had jumped on your man parts? Hmmm? How do you think YOU would feel to look down and see the 2nd largest wolf spider ever...hanging upside down off of your balls? What THEN?? Do you think you would still be laughing?

(a long pause...)

Him:...that's just not even funny. You shouldn't stay stuff like that. In fact, we need to quit talking about this altogether. I can't believe you said that. You know how I feel about my man-parts.

My work here is done.

For what it's worth...I wasn't able to just flush the toilet and have the spider go down. I had to stick a toilet brush in there and shove it down as I flushed. 8 times.

Now, if I could just kill Wolfie, the spider so large (that he had to be named) that currently lives in our garage , I would feel a whole lot better. In fact, I will probably let him live...as long as he stays out of my toilet.

The Uni-Pony...

My youngest daughter, Katie...now 12, has always been a hair "experimenter". I suspect this will get worse as she gets older. I may or may not be speaking from experience. Right Stephanie and Meg?

One late afternoon, I went to pick up Katie from Prime-time, an after school program sponsored by the YMCA. When I walked into the school cafeteria, I noticed that she had a long ponytail smack-dab in the middle of her forehead. It took me off guard a little...this certainly wasn't a normal hairstyle for her.

Damyankee: Well, that's new...

Katie: uh huh.

Damyankee: ah. looks good.

I have learned, over these years, that you must pick your battles. Hair...is not worth battling over. If she wants to walk around looking like a unicorn...so be it. I figure that either she will start a new fashion trend or kids would call her unicorn-doody-head and she will find a new style.

This is not my first go-round with Katie and her hair. When she was in first grade (her first foray into Mississippi public education) she came home one day and asked if she could wear her hair like some other girls in her class. She said it looked cool!

Damyankee:What kind of style would that be?

Katie:"Well, they have all these braids all over their head, and a big barrette at the end with dingle balls. I want some dingle balls mommy!"

Damyankee:I am pretty sure they aren't called dingle balls Kate. Anyway, that's beside the point. I don't think I can braid your hair like that, it's just too fine. It won't hold.

Katie: Sobbing...But I waaaaaaaaaaaant it.

I went on to explain that her hair was different than some of the girls in her class. That her friends hair had more texture (with a short course on what texture meant) and that it was easier to braid hair when it had more texture. Katie seemed pacified and I thought nothing more of it.

....Until .....

I went to pick her up the next day from school. She had *50* little braids sticking up all over her head with multicolored barrettes (some with dingle balls) on the ends. Apparently, one of her little classmates had given her a makeover during recess.

Fortunately, she didn't wear it like that again because she said it HURT to have all those braids put in and she didn't like getting her hair yanked on. She said that her little friend must be a lot tougher than she is to have that done everyday! Indeed.

Three years later...having picked up the Uni-Pony Kid from school, we go home to start working on dinner, doing homework, etc. She stays suspiciously quiet throughout the evening. I knew something wasn't right, but couldn't quite put my finger on it. Hmmm...

Eventually, she gets ready for bed, which includes a shower first. I was at my desk working on something when she comes out of the bathroom wearing a towel on her head. She stares at me for a few minutes...and then just starts to WAIL. Big huge crocodile tears... (what in the world??)

Damyankee: Oh my gosh Katie...what's wrong?

Katie: (sobbing)...I don't want to tell you...you're gonna be maaaaad....

*sigh*...those 4 words have the power to clinch a butt tight enough to flatten a nickel...

Damyankee: Well, I promise I won't get mad. I'm sure it isn't as bad as you think. (parenting mistake #5,227 here. Never ever promise you won't get mad. You should say you won't get AS mad...that way you aren't lying.)

She takes the towel off of her head...and my eyes bulged. I would give *anything* for a poker face sometimes.

Damyankee: WHAT DID YOU DO??? (editors note: I feel certain that I didn't say it quite that nicely)

Katie: (still sobbing) It was an acccc..ci...denttttt....

Damyankee: WHAT??? That's no accident!

Apparently, her sister had dared her to cut her hair...with poultry scissors. She started off just cutting a snippet of bangs to her nose. But, she figured that I would notice that right off since we had been painfully growing out her bangs for the last year. So, she just cut them to the scalp....and then went back a little further to make it look "more natural".

Damyankee: Katie...you have school pictures in just a few weeks!!

It's gonna grow mom! You said you wouldn't be mad!

Damyankee: Ok...I am not mad...(gritting my teeth)...I am upset.

They did grow back...not before pictures were taken, but she sported a nice comb-over that year. She then moved on to the flat-top growing through the comb-over until such time that she could plaster it with enough hair spray to get them to lay down flat. It wasn't her best hair year.

I haven't told her all my stories, but I am sure one day she will find out all of the "mistakes" that I made too....and still make.