I wrote my very first blog post 8 years ago (Happy Belated Blogivesary to me, heh) on September 2, 2003 (at 3:38 p.m.) and poop may or may not have been involved.
My youngest was still in diapers and, well, it's understandable, really. Raising 4 kids, under the age of 10, life revolved around my being the center of their world -- handling poop was a large part of it -- which, thanks to the internet, had just gotten a whole lot smaller.
I now had the ability to communicate, with other people, over the age of 10, unwashed and in my pajamas (as far as anyone knew!)
To be given the opportunity to put my thoughts (scattered and nonsensical, as they may have been) into actual words (thanks to spell check) blogging felt empowering AND downright intoxicating, really.
Minus, the poop, of course. Especially, for a self-professed, semi-professional, poop-handlers (like me) you know?
We've shared a lot of stories in 8 years and, now that my kids are older (me, too) perhaps even managed to work in a title, involving just about every major bodily fluid and/or function known to the universe.
Because, contrary to what most people think (about moms, who happen to write a blog, or twenty, too) it's not ALWAYS about the poop.
"Grandma's on the phone and she sounds upset."
My in-laws were in Massachusetts, on their way back home to Jersey, they got hit by another car and my husband could hear the emergency crew trying to get her side of the car open, they got there THAT fast (thank you Holyoke EMT!)
While my husband showered and prepared to break the record for driving, round trip, thru MA, CT, NY and NJ traffic (enough said) in 9 hours (it CAN be done) my kids took to task.
My middle girl Googled information for the local authorities, hospital and hotels, while the youngest wrote the information on sticky notes.
Aaaand, for all the worries about kids today and their fascination with the internet (not to mention, the moms who blog about them) I have to say, it was nice to see mine use their cyberpowers for good in the time it took me to find my dumbass phone.
Only, because my oldest used her cell phone to call it.
Then, she texted this picture to my husband's cell phone and, I am very,VERY happy to tell you, they are ALL back home and doing fine.
Morale of the Story: Potty-training is hard, raising tweens and teens is like [insert bodily fluid and/or function, of choice, here!] in the wind.
Beeeeeecause, you NEVER know what's gonna get thrown back at you AND it's not always about the poop, anyway.
Don't believe me? Rather than telling you about the rest of our horrifically emotional weekend (you're welcome!) I did a quick search: PUKE WINS!
Aaaand thank YOU for allowing ME the chance to, you know, share.
© 2003 - 2011 This Full House