Showing posts with label poop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poop. Show all posts

13 August 2008

Things that make you go hmmmm

Did you know that if you Google "Great Blue Heron Poop" that my blog is the very first result??? How did that happen? I don't even think my blog is the first result if you Google "Stay-at-Home Dad's Guide to The Galaxy".

In case you're wondering why I was Googling Great Blue Heron Poop at 9pm on a Wednesday . . I wasn't. I was going through my recent visitor activity on Statcounter.com, and one of the things I always check out is the Referring URL. Basically if someone clicked a link on another page that led to my blog, it's recorded there. The nice thing about Google searches is that the URL contains the text that was searched to net the results. Some other interesting searches that have recently produced visits to my page are "wilson's snipe recipe", "lil panties", "cherrystone camping", "lili poo stay way", "amazing amanda instructions", "blow up toddler beds", "toddler bed cannot escape sleep", and "how to do a fox hawk hairdo". Oh, and how could I omit "american airlines nonrev dress code policy". I'm not making these up folks.

Anyway, in honor of the impetus for this rambling post, I leave you with a photo. Enjoy!

27 June 2008

Poop . . Still Comical After All This Time

Recall my post from November 27th of last year. Fast forward to today, and it seems poop really is still comical.

Today we took Meema's niece Tess down the road a way to rendez vous with her mom. The "with Tess" part of our trip is over, and she's headed off to summer camp tomorrow. The drive to Whitney Point was about an hour and fifteen minutes long, but it would have been more like an hour if we hadn't had to stop to let the girls pee when we got into Ithaca. We stopped at a gas station that didn't have a restroom, so they had to hike half a block to a hotel to do their business. Fifteen minutes later we were back on the road, with about 25 minutes to our destination. Twenty minutes in, Lily informed us that she had to go potty yet again. Running late as it was, we told her she had to hold it until we got to the McDonalds where we were meeting Tess' mom, and remarkably she was able to. Crisis, temporarily, averted.

After the drop-off it was back into Ithaca for dinner at The Boat Yard, which is another story altogether. What's relevant, however, is that Lily peed when we got there, and again when we left an hour later. From there we went across the street to play at a park for a half hour or so, then headed to Wegmans for some groceries to get us through the rest of our stay. When we got inside, Lil had to go potty again, so I took her straight in. She peed, again, and we went on about our shopping. To recap, that's 5 urinations in the span of 3.5 hours, and she'd had only a single Capri Sun and a few sips of lemonade to drink. That being said, you'll understand that I didn't push the issue of making her try to potty before we left the store, as it's only a 25 minute drive back up to the cottage.

Talk about your all-time backfires. About a third of the way up the lake road Lily proclaims "Meema, I've gotta go pee-pee!" in her most urgent voice. We were torn . . should we make an emergency stop for her, or push our luck a little bit and try to make it back to the house? Well, she went ahead and made that decision for us, having an accident a mere two minutes later. Meema insisted we pull over and let her try to finish, so I pulled quickly into the driveway of one of the McMansions along the road. Meema hurried around to Lily's door, got her unbuckled from her seat, and ran her out behind a brick wall to let her go potty. Somehow, she also had the wherewithal to grab a paper towel from under the seat of the car, and it would pay off in spades.

They managed to get Lil's panties off with lightning quickness, and before you knew it she was popping a squat in some stranger's yard. After a few seconds with no visible results, Lily's posture changed noticeably, in a way that was all too familiar to me. Her thighs flexed, her neck extended, and just like that she was squeezing out a little turd. Appalled, I took off my hat and buried my face in the steering wheel, just hoping no one inside the house could get a good description of the guy driving the car with the kid that crapped in the lawn. Meema looked over to me and mouthed the words "she pooped", as if somehow I could have missed that fact. I hollered frantically at her "I know that, just get her in the car quick before somebody calls the cops!"

When they got back to the car, I was prodding them to hurry the heck up so we could get out of there. Inexplicably, Meema asked me to open the trunk.

"Why the heck do you need to get in the trunk?" I yelled.

"I'm gonna put the poop back there," she said.

You can only imagine the look on my face. "I wasn't going to just leave it in their yard," she finished.

"Well hell," I said, "I woulda just thrown it in the woods or something!"

She insisted on bringing the poop home though, so she finished strapping Lily in, put the turd in an empty bag (on the opposite side of the trunk from the groceries, thank goodness), and got back in to the car. I high-tailed it out of the driveway and hustled up the road. As we left the house, I noticed a "For Sale" sign on the other side of the wall Lily pooped behind . . I can only hope that means that nobody was home. As we drove up the road and laughed about our evening, Meema shared one last little tidbit that just put the icing on the cake. She said that as she realized there was no more pee-pee coming out, Lily looked at her and said "Uh-oh, I got a poopie!" A classic Lily moment to be sure, and she was narrating it as usual.

14 September 2007

A New Personal Low

No, it's not what you're thinking . . I'm not depressed and my marriage is fine. I have however stooped to a new all-time low in negotiating with my children. By virtue of my title, I've inherited the task of potty training Lily. The fact that I've done it before, with Avery, has little bearing here since that was over 4 years ago and I can't even remember what I had for lunch yesterday, let alone how to potty train a toddler.

When this little adventure began last week, we made a couple of deals with the little rugrat. Bribery, you say? Hey, I'm just going with Dr. Phil's "everyone's got currency" approach. Lily loves Dora, so we dangled some Dora The Explorer panties in front of her for when she was "all potty all the time", and some M&M's (her favorite candy) as incentive for each time she has a successful session on the potty in the meantime. That seemed a lot more reasonable than paying $25 for "The 3-Day Potty Training System" offered online, and more enticing than the "Potty Party at Chuck-e-Cheese's" method I'd read about.

And then I jumped the shark. Wednesday, Lily asked to see her "results" while I was changing a poopie diaper. Conflicted, I allowed her to peek, and then answered the onslaught of resulting inquiries . . "It's a big one? It's brown? It's gross? It's stinky?" That I stand behind . . what happened the next time she pooped, however, I will question for a long time. Trying to use every opportunity to convince her that there are numerous advantages to using the toilet, when she said "I want to see it" this time, I let my instincts get the best of me. "No, Lily, you can't see it. When you poopie in the potty, then you can see it." OMG, what did I just do??? I can't believe I used poop, or more accurately the viewing of one's own poop, as a bargaining tool. That is, far and away, a new personal low for me, one I can not imagine ever surpassing. At least, that is, until one of the girls has a less-than-desirable boyfriend we're trying to "discourage". Then all bets are off!