Polar opposites

When you become a mom, your world revolves around, well, shit.  Notice I didn’t say your world is shit, because it isn’t.  It’s a crazy, wild, wonderful mess that revolves around shit.  When they do it, how much, how messy it is, is it the right color, is it the right consistency, are they eating the right things to make it come out right, what can I use to get it out of there, and how in the world did it get in that ?!?!?

The funny thing is, even though we are always left to handle the shit or clean it up, when it personally comes to the great #2, women are the discrete gender.  We know that everybody poops, but it’s more lady like to pretend we don’t.  It’s a private matter, one you handle at home, quickly and quietly, behind closed doors.  We also know enough to know that we don’t talk about it…ever.

Boys on the other hand, come out of the womb with this innate obsession with the ol’ stink eye that never ends, but, in fact, grows larger and larger with each passing day.  For them, using the facilities requires blocking off a significant amount of time, as these things can not be rushed.  Both of the males in my life have stacks of reading material in their respective bathrooms.  In addition, they have notified me that the lavatory can be a great source of intellectual inspiration, a place to take their time and contemplate life.

In my son’s case, I am convinced that his time on the throne has a direct correlation to the development of his sense of humor.  Case in point….

The other day I was rounding up my beloved offspring to fold the laundry.  (I’ve got to squeeze out those years of free manual labor while I can.)  I yelled for my son, telling him his presence was requested downstairs to take part in the folding.  He yells back to me from the potty,

“I can’t Mom.  I’m taking the Browns to the Superbowl!”

What?!?!  Oh…. Yuck!

Tonight, in between putting away groceries, picking up the house, and making dinner, I called for the kids to get to the table to finish their homework.  The girl shows up right away and dives in.  One minute, two, five pass…no boy.

Trystan, time for homework.”

“I can’t now.  I’m dropping bombs on Japan.”

Hun?!?!  Oh…Well, at least he made a historically correct reference.  Nice to see that tuition money is being put to good use.





  1. Let’s just say that I can relate to women being discrete about going #2. In fact, when my children ask me if I ever do “gasers,” I politely tell them, “NO, moms don’t do such things. I can’t ruin their image of me.

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