One-eyed Jack (or Jolene in this case!)

Okay, so here’s my thing…..I believe every person should engage in service. It is a great way to focus on what is important in life. Whenever I am feeling upset, depressed or stressed I try to insert a little bit of service into my life. Unfortunately for me, more often then not these service opportunities seldom turn out the way I want them to!

For example, I work retail. During this time of year the hours can be long and harried. The stress of the holiday season was recently getting to me. I found myself experiencing a bad case of tourette syndrome after being yelled at for the fourth time that day by a guest who couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t tell them everything on the ad that would be coming out in 3 days!!!!

Then I had to clean up a level 3 spill on the magazine aisle. (A Level 3 spill indicates a spill that could possibly contain hazardous materials ie…blood, throw up, chemicals, bodily fluid) You don’t want to know what it was but a guest slipped on it and fell AND the person who left it was arrested for shoplifting ladies panties and indecent exposure!

About this time I decided I needed to perform some form of service so I could remember what the season was all about. Outside the front doors there was a collection of people who had been camping out to buy a WII Nintendo system. They had been out there for days and it was very cold. I decided I would take them some hot chocolate. Now, I'm allergic to chocolate. However, I decided I could safely get the chocolate to the guests outside without coming in contact with it.

I went to the food area to pour the chocolate. UNBELIEVABLE! The machine was broken. I decided this was Satan’s attempt to stop my act of service in its tracks! I was not going to let this alter my plans. I was determined to do a nice deed! I went and bought a can of Swiss Miss (with marshmallows even!) and made 15 cups of steaming, hot chocolate. I carefully carried the cups to the front door. I balanced the cups on a row of carts. I unlocked the front doors, picked up the tray of chocolate and proceeded to spill it onto my crotch! It was so cold outside I could actually see the steam coming off my pants!

As the hot beverage soaked into my clothes, I ran to my office. I scrambled to find my epinephrine pen. I gave myself a shot and grabbed my inhaler. I had the pleasure of managing the store the rest of the day with a chocolate stained crotch while trying to walk without rubbing the hives and blisters raw that formed between my legs!

This brings to mind another time in Logan, Utah when my service goals went awry. I was assigned to visit-teach a blind lady in my ward. This lady was very kind but was very high maintenance due to a drug addiction. During the time I knew her I went above and beyond the call of duty to try and help her any way possible.

I once drove her to the local Wal-Mart (there was no Target in Logan!) and helped her pick out lingerie for a special night with her husband. I wished I was blind when she asked me to help her get the outfit on and then, “How do I look?”

Another time, I invited her to come to a ward party. The men were going to be serving the women dinner. I arrived at her house to pick her up and found she wasn’t ready. I asked her if I could help in any way. WAY WRONG QUESTION!!!!! She asked me if I could put her eyeballs in! What the #@##%#$#@. Up to this point in our relationship I didn’t know she had glass eyes. I actually would have been okay never knowing this information. (I had a beautiful neighbor who once told me she shaved her big toes and that was all I could think of for years.)

My neighbor explained to me how to tell which way they went and I proceeded to “pop” them in. I got them in and immediately noticed one didn’t look quite right. From the side view my neighbor looked like Igor from Young Frankenstein. The Christ like thing to do would be to “pop” the eye back out and start over. However, I’m not very Christ like. I took her to the party with the bulging eyeball.

Midway through the meal, Jolene started complaining that her eye felt dry. (Since I put the eye in upside down, her eyelid wasn’t closing over it properly.) She asked me to help put some wetting drops into THE eye. No way, Jose! I could see that thing was only holding on by a thread. Finally, we got to the speaker portion of the evening. As we were listening to the talk, Jolene……sneezed.

Yep, you guessed it! Her eyeball flew out of her eye and started rolling across the floor. All I can say is at these stressful times in my life I tend to have tourette's. There I was, chasing this poor lady’s eyeball across the floor. Thank heavens for the microphone cord! It stopped the eyeball. I grabbed that slippery little sucker and raced back to the table. I tried to clean it off by rubbing it on the hem of my skirt but that was creeping me out. I decided to drop it into my glass of ice water to get it all clean and shiny again. (Besides, she said it was dry)

Just in case this ever happens to you….I don’t recommend putting an eyeball in a glass full of ice water. It tends to ruin the spirit when people start screaming. I took the eyeball out with my spoon, breathed on it to try to warm it up, and put it back where it belonged.

The moral of my story is…..For about a year after this whenever I thought of the scripture…..When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God…..I could only think of that eye, floating in my cup of ice, staring at me!!!!!

Adventures in Breastfeeding!

Okay, so here’s my thing……..I had an experience recently that caused me to ponder my feelings about breastfeeding. Now, before you get upset and send me hate mail let me assure you, all of my babies suckled at their mother’s breast. I believe it is a great way to bond and get all of your vitamins for the day. Blah, blah, blah! However, there is a point where enough is enough!!!! Let me explain.

I was recently visiting teaching. (For those of you who are not familiar with Mormons, this is a program in my church where women in the neighborhood visit other women. We give them a message and words of hope and encouragement.) On this particular visit I found myself bringing along my 4 ½ year old daughter. I normally would leave her home but the house I was visiting had a boy the same age as my child. My neighbor and I thought if the children played together then we would have a more enjoyable visit.

Upon entering the house, my daughter and the boy, let’s call him “Chester”, ran off to play. I was having a nice relaxing visit with my neighbor. I found myself wondering why I didn’t hang out with this girl more often. After about 20 minutes, my daughter and “Chester” came into the room. The children announced loudly their need for a drink. I immediately started to rise to help when my eyes widened in horror. Sweet little 5-year old “Chester” started undoing the buttons on Mommy’s shirt. What in the name of all that is holy was this kid doing? Mommy continued the conversation without missing a beat while my daughter and I watched speechlessly.

What great hand-eye coordination this child had! He easily undid all 12 buttons (13 if you counted the clip on the nursing bra!!!!), gently pulled out a boob and started to drink. I am normally not a girl of limited speech but what do you say to that??? “I would like mine shaken not stirred!”??? The best I could come up with was “Wow”. My daughter, however, piped up with her cherubic voice and said, “Is that a drinking fountain?” I found myself grabbing her as she started forward for her turn.

As “Chester” came up for air I found myself thinking he resembled a vampire with the blood from his latest kill oozing out his mouth. As the little Dracula wiped the milk from his chin and exclaimed, “Yum” I found myself uttering sounds like a dolphin. The mother quickly explained to me the benefits of breastfeeding children. She patiently explained how your chances of breast cancer go down if you breastfeed children through the fifth year of life. I found her concern with cancer humorous since this woman obviously used a tanning bed. Trust me on this one! It’s the dead of winter and those boobs were evenly tanned (with no tan lines I might add!)

I asked the mother if she wanted a moment to finish feeding time but she said no. She gave me a lecture on the right of a mother to breastfeed any time and any place she wanted. I wholeheartedly disagreed. She was quite offended by this. However, she didn’t understand where I was coming from. (Remember in “To Kill a Mockingbird” when the dad tells his child that you don’t truly understand where a person is coming from until you “walk around in their skin”? Well, this mother couldn’t possibly understand my reservations on breastfeeding in public without “walking around in my lactating boobs!)

After the birth of my second child I had a breastfeeding moment that scarred me for life. I was attending church with my husband and two children. I have always had a policy of sitting as close to the front as possible. I have found my children misbehave less when there are no children in front of them. For the longest time we sat in the second pew from the front. The pew in front of us was occupied by the men (most wards use boys but our ward didn’t have any) who passed the sacrament. Once sacrament was over, these men would sit with their families leaving no one in front of us.

Moments before the sacrament was to begin my baby started to cry. It was time to feed her. My husband suggested that I stay in the meeting and feed her there. I gave him a crusty look and snorted at this idea. He pointed out several women in the chapel who were doing exactly that. These petite, cute moms had blankets modestly draped over their shoulders. Since it seemed to be working for them, I decided to give it a try.

It took several minutes of trying to get my 38HH boob out of its confinement. Now, did you know that when you have horrendously large boobs full of milk, the second they are free milk tends to dribble out of them until a little mouth begins to catch the liquid? I could feel the milk soaking my skirt as I tried to get my baby under the blanket and “hooked up”, all the while holding the blanket in place with my chin. While juggling the baby, I dropped my soaked nursing pad onto my shoe, “SPLAT”. I was determined, however, to make this work. At last I managed to find a comfortable position for the baby. My husband helped tuck the blanket over my shoulder to hold it in place. I had one arm under the baby and the other was holding back the large boob mass so my child wouldn’t be smothered to death. I couldn’t believe my success!!!!

After a few minutes my oldest child glanced over at me. I guess she was confused at what I was doing because she came over and pulled the blanket off!!!! A few things happened at once: First, Madison jerked her head as the blanket was flung off. Second, as she broke the connection my 38HH boob started spraying milk across the backs and necks of the men waiting to pass the sacrament. Third, the bishopric seated on the stand started to laugh. Fourth, I dropped the baby as I tried to grab the blanket. Fifth, the baby started to scream. Sixth, pretty much everyone who attended church saw my boob! To this day I can still see the droplets of milk dripping off of the ears of the men in front of me.

So to sum up my feelings on breastfeeding let me reiterate. If the kid knows where the milk is coming from, can undo the buttons, zippers, snaps, etc. to get to it, he or she is probably too old to be nursing. Finally, not every one is coordinated enough to discretely breastfeed in public. So think carefully before undertaking such a feat!

The Joys of Childbirth

Ok, so here's my thing.......Today, after a 12 hour day at work, I was informed that I needed to help my child with her homework assignment. Now, I'm a big fan of education. I'm an even bigger fan of creative ways of learning. However, I am not a big fan of stupid homework assignments that I'm going to end up doing. For example, two nights ago my child had to create a completely edible diagram of a cell. Please, explain to me how making a cell out of jell-o will help my kid remember where the nucleus is? Honestly, I'm thinking of suing someone when my child fails the ACT because she adds cherry jell-o to the parts of a cell.
Tonight my child was working on a project where she had to come up with 5 words per letter of the alphabet that describe Utah. ARE YOU FREAKIN KIDDING ME???? That's 130 words!!! Then she had to put the word on a 3x5 card, include a few facts about the word and how it relates to Utah, and COLOR it!!!!! Added to that she had to have a title card and a card to "announce" each letter of the alphabet for a grand total of 157 cards!!!! How gay is that??? Do you know how hard it is to find 5 words for every letter of the alphabet that have some connection to Utah??? I mean, "M" was okay.....Mormon, Mormon Battalion, Mormon Tabernacle Choir.......But try "X" or "Q". I spent hours looking for words that would work. Then I had to help my child draw pictures and color. I mean, really, isn't there some sort of rule that your child should no longer be coloring for school assignments once they start shaving their armpits? It was while I was coloring Jedediah Smith, a famous explorer who traveled throughout Utah, that my memory drifted back to the beginning. I vividly recalled the birth of my first child. Since it was a humiliating experience, I decided to post it here.

My husband and I desperately wanted a baby. All of our friends had one, plus we could use the tax break. After much effort (we were not able to spontaneously conceive on a camping trip in Logan, Utah while talking to friends through the side of a tent) we were rewarded with the great news; we were expecting!!!! Although I was ecstatic to be pregnant, I wasn't prepared for what was coming. Someday I'll write a book on all the things you should know but no one will tell you. For instance, the first time you take a shower after giving birth, don't become alarmed. That isn't your liver that just fell on the shower floor. DO NOT try to scoop it up to put on ice so the doctor can put it back in. DO NOT press the call button while you are franticly yelling at the nurse to help you find your liver! It is only chunks of placenta....You will be very embarrassed listening to the nurses laugh about this all night long.
And speaking of placenta.....If your mom is a little bit crazy, don't let her come to the hospital until the doctor has left. Otherwise, while you are being stitched up, you will have to act as referee while your mother yells at the doctor demanding the right to keep her daughter's placenta. (This is actually against the law. The hospital sells it to make-up companies. Cover up anyone???) My doctor and mother compromised. My doctor allowed my mother to "play" with my placenta while she explained how some cultures eat the placenta. For the record, no one asked me if this was okay. I left strict instructions to keep her outside!!! Unfortunately for me, this wasn't the most embarrassing moment of my daughter's birth.
All doctors and nurses should be required to take classes on tact, empathy, and etiquette. Is it really necessary to gasp every time I step on a scale? Do they really think I need them to point out how close to the 200 pound mark I am? Is it necessary to comment on my stretch marks EVERY time I come for an appointment? Let me explain.....I got huge stretch marks very early in my pregnancy. They were not only huge, they were deep red and purple. I wasn't too pleased with this. I thought stretch marks would come after the baby started to grow. Not in the first month! I looked like a mutated X-man. As my stomach started growing I looked like a watermelon. The kind with the strips running down it. UGH!!!! To make matters worse, every appointment someone had to comment on them. My favorite was when I was asked if they were varicose veins. It really builds self esteem when you are told you are a 200 pound varicose vein. It gets worse. Not only did my own nurse and doctor check them out at each appointment, but they brought in other people to see them. HELLO!!!!!!! They could at least charge admission. At about month 7, my doctor brought in some guy who was working on a medical book. They agreed mine were the worse stretch marks in the history of child birth. Long story short.....This stranger took PHOTOS of my stretch marks for his medical book. He asked if I wanted credit for the photo. No thanks! He asked if I wanted a copy of his book for posterity. Hell no!!!! Humiliating! However, this wasn't the most embarrassing experience of my child's birth.
Well, the big day finally came. My husband and I eagerly entered the Orem Community Hospital at 12:00pm. We were admitted to our room. What followed was a long line of people who thought they had a right to not only look at my "hoo-ha" but to stick their hand into said "hoo-ha" to announce how big it was. I realize this was necessary but you would think they would at least buy me a drink first, offer me a mint, SOMETHING!!!! And don't they learn in medical school to at least warm up their hands??? Honestly, I didn't even feel bad when a nurse went to check "how I was progressing" and lost her watch! That's what she gets for placing her cold hands there in the first place!
After a day of this trauma with no success, my doctor suggested an enema. Excuse me???? What earthly reason could there be for this?? The doctor felt maybe my stool was blocking the baby's pathway to freedom! What is this??? The Shawshank Redemption?? After smacking my husband for being jealous he couldn't have an enema, I had to crawl up on my bed, get on all fours, bend over and have some orderly (I think he was in one of my classes at BYU) stick a plastic tube up my butt. After the initial shock of, "what are those welts on your stomach???" (I had almost forgot the stretch marks) the orderly actually patted my right butt check and told me to relax! Was he kidding???? He then proceeded to pump warm, soapy water into me while telling me to "squeeze my butt cheeks together". When the 200 pound, stretch marked, Shamu (me) couldn't hold it in any longer I had to get off the bed and walk into the bathroom while trying to keep my butt cheeks clenched together in a death lock. Would my baby be born with "dish pan hands" now? Humiliating!!! However, this wasn't the most embarrassing experience of my child's birth. Are you ready for this? Here it is......
After all of this (no the enema didn't speed anything up) the medical team started to become concerned. The baby had been in the canal for too long. The stress test showed she was becoming stressed. You think??? At this point, with my stretch marked legs in stir-ups everyone and their dog began coming in to check me out. I was really starting to get angry. These professionals didn't even ask if it was okay. They just marched into my room, lifted the sheet and went to town. I decided enough was enough. If my husband wasn't going to stand up for the honor of my "hoo-ha" then I was!!!!!!
When the next person walked into the room I yanked off my sheet, flung it to the floor, and yelled, "go ahead, look all you want! Build a summer home for all I care!" I shall never forget the look of horror on this poor boy's face as he cleared his throat and said, "I'm just here to empty your garbage". What???? "STEVE!!!!! Of course, my dear, sweet husband was in the bathroom!!!! How did my sheet get on the floor??? Have you ever tried to reach a sheet on the floor while your legs were in stir-ups? Unbelievable! This was the most embarrassing moment of my child's birth!!!!!
After 48 hours and 6 minutes my little Brittney was born. I was actually being prepped for a c-section when the surgeon came into the room for one final check. He discovered my baby was posterior. He stuck his hand in up to his elbow, pushed the baby back, turned her head, and out she shot like a torpedo!
Isn't it a good thing we forget the labor and delivery experience. Otherwise we would only have one child each!
P.S. I did see this poor garbage boy in the produce section at Macey's several months later. As I tried to hide my face with a head of lettuce, my husband pointed out my head probably wasn't the body part this kid would recognize!

My first MeMe

Okay, so here's my thing.....No Cool Story tagged me for a Christmas meme. Since I had no idea what that meant, I had to consult with my Blog expert. (Sorry this is new to me!). Well, here it goes:

1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate? Neither! I am basically allergic to everything! My doctor once suggested I be placed in a plastic bubble but, you guessed it, I'm allergic to plastic. I'm very allergic to chocolate. If I even touch it a have trouble breathing. If I eat it, or drink it as this case may be, I have seizures! I'm not a huge fan of eggs thanks to my dear old dad! When I was a child he sat me down, cracked open an egg, and preceded to show me the umbilical cord. He said he wasn't sure if an egg was a "chicken's period", "chicken's abortion" (do they have the morning after pill for chickens?), or a "chicken's miscarriage"! I have had a hard time keeping them down ever since. However, my family was very excited when they asked my husband to buy them Egg Nog one year in Arizona. Having been born and raised in Utah, he had no idea some Egg Nog contains alcohol. My family really got into the holiday "spirit" that year!

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? Unfortunately, he wraps them. I have to be totally honest here. I am anti-wrapping paper. Every Christmas I try to get people to band together and boycott wrapping paper sales. We, as consumers, are so stupid!!!! We pay horrendous prices for colored paper! Then we spend hours cutting, tapping, and folding this paper onto weird shaped presents. Have you ever tried to wrap a golf club, football, toilet brush??????? After spending hours creating this work of art, this paper is ripped off, strewn all over the floor, and discarded never to be thought of again. Unless of course you are like my mother. Then you must attempt to get your paper off without ripping it so you can gently place it in a box and reuse it. I find this is handy only if you give the same gifts every year! (What to get Coz this year? Oh yeah, I have paper already wrapped into the shape of a toilet brush!!!! Problem solved).

3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? Don't even get me started!!! I love Christmas lights. I believe that you don't have enough lights on your house unless you can see it from space! I personally like the white icicle lights for the house. If you are going to put lights on your trees or bushes, let me tell you this.....It is totally moronic to throw one string across a couple branches. People will mock you! If you are going to do it, be thorough. It cheapens the Christmas spirit to have one string of lights covering a 40 foot oak! When I see this I get so irate I stop my car and steal your mail! It gives me pleasure to imagine your feelings when you think dear old Aunt Edna forgot to send you a Christmas card!!! So please, don't force me to retaliate. Either deck the house all the way out or stick to the house! Due to the fact that our Christmas tree is a Star Wars Christmas tree we have to use white lights. My husband won't allow colored lights. It interferes with the color of the light sabers.

4. Do you hang mistletoe? Not since the hubby started putting it on his pants! Enough said!

5. When do you put your decorations up? Thanksgiving day. I am an executive with a retail store. I only get Thanksgiving off. After that comes black Friday! My family doesn't see me after that until Christmas is over. If I want to participate in the decorating (which consists of taking the Star Wars ornaments out of the boxes....Only Steve gets to put them on the tree) we have to do it this day.

6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? Real mashed potatoes made with butter, garlic, and whipping cream! I pile it on my plate and pretend I'm Richard Dreyfuss in Close Encounters of the Third Kind!!!

7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child: I don't really have any from my childhood. My parents were divorced and my mother told us every year that Santa doesn't visit single parent houses. (I'm sure you are thinking this explains a lot about me!) My favorite memory with my children was in Logan, Utah. My daughter wanted a bike. She had written this letter to Santa explaining how she wanted it but would understand if it cost too much. We had a balcony where we put the bike. We attached fishing wire to the handle bars and tied the other end to a jewelry box. We placed the box under the tree in the very back. Brittney thought all the gifts had been opened. I could tell she was disappointed but she smiled and thanked us for everything. I asked her what that little white box was all the way in the back of the tree? She got it and started following the fishing line. I will never forget her opening the balcony door and collapsing into tears of gratitude. It was the most humbling experience to watch this sweet child. I will never forget it!!!

8. How and When did you learn the truth about Santa? I don't understand the question. What truth about Santa???!!!!???

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? Only if the kids are getting pj's. Now that they refuse to wear matching outfits we stopped giving them. I thought about giving everyone a coat like the one from "Better Off Dead" but I doubt any of them would wear yak fur so what would be the point!

10. How do you decorate your Christmas Tree? First of all, I like real trees better then fake but I'm no longer allowed to have one. Steve says sap could get on his ornaments. Second of all, our tree is all Star Wars! We used to have Yoda at the top of it. In recent years, Steve has switched to Darth Vadar. I once raised objections to this. My husband and I argued about what Star Wars has to do with Christmas!!!! When I came home the next night, Steve had all the children sitting at his knee. He was telling them the "true story of Christmas". It is hard to argue with your 3 year old when she is telling you of the ultimate story of love and forgiveness. Now I just smile and let him do his thing.

11. Snow! Love it or Dread it? Love it!!!! I don't mind the cold (I can always put more clothes on if I'm cold but I can only take so much off when I am hot before I am arrested or scar someone for life).

13. Do you remember your favorite gift? Once again, I didn't get gifts as a kid. I did get a hair sample of my mom once to make a voodoo doll out of. Now every year I poke it with an ornament hook for good measure.

14. What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you? Sleep!!!! I work retail! The hours are long this time of year!

15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert? Why limit it to the holidays? I love dessert period!!!! I could eat a whole gallon of Peppermint Stick Ice Cream in my underwear watching movies. I would gladly partake of your pecan pie if you are offering. I love it!

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? Leaving corn out for the reindeer so they can fly to the next house. It's "corny" but then again, so am I.

17. What tops your tree? A gigantic Darth Vader head! (my husband is obsessed).

18. Which do you prefer giving or Receiving? Is this a trick question???? I suppose the correct answer is giving. However, I missed out on a lot of receiving years. Either way I answer this question it will sound shallow! Can I phone a friend? Poll the audience?

19. What is your favorite Christmas Song? My favorite is "Oh, Holy Night". Does anyone else have issues with Neil Diamond making a profit with Christmas songs???? I mean, I love the guy as much as the next but I find it offensive when he sings songs like, Silent Night, Away in the Manger, O Little Town of Bethlehem, etc. The guy is a practicing Jew! Last time I checked they didn't recognize Jesus as the Savior of the world. Why is he singing about it!!!! That is why I totally respect Adam Sandler! I will take his "The Hannukah Song" any day over Neil Diamond's "Silent Night".

20. What is your favorite Christmas story? Do you really have to ask? When the dad brings home the lamp with fish net stockings, when the tongue gets stuck to the pole, when Ralphie shoots his eye out with the red rider bb gun.....Genius, pure genius.

Well, there you go! Am I supposed to tag someone now??? If so I hereby would like to tag:-Millie. (Sorry Gnat, you're the only one I know!)

Buffalo don't eat corn.........

Just in case people think that last blog was my only humiliating moment.....Ok, so here's my thing....I love to travel!!! Every year I try to take my family to Yellowstone National Park. This place is totally amazing. Over the years I have had some incredible memories of this place. (Even though I have yet to see someone gored by a buffalo! I mean, honestly, people are so stupid. I can't tell you how many times I have seen someone poking a buffalo in the butt with a stick to get it to stand up and pose for a picture!!!) However, no matter how hard I try, no matter what awesome things I see, NO memory will ever be able to replace what I call the "Yellowstone moment".

Ok, the first thing you have to understand is my husband has bathroom issues!!!! (Actually, he has many issues! If you have recently read Thoroughly Mormon Millie's blog you would understand. He is the owner of the all Star War's Christmas tree!) He went on an LDS mission to Mexico and brought back 21 little friends! Over the years these parasites come and go but Steve basically just has to go and go and go. He has been known to watch full length movies and once Season 2 of Magnum PI in the bathroom while "going". Once, Steve and my sister's boyfriend decided to drive down to Arizona together. About 3:oo am I got a phone call from the boyfriend. He thought Steve was a victim of some creepy, X-files, alien abduction at a gas station in Kanab. He said Steve had been missing for over an hour. I had to calm him down and instruct him to check with the gas station attendant to see if the bathroom key (you know the one they connect to a toilet seat so you don't steal it) had been returned. True enough, John Ed, came back to the phone to inform me the key was still missing. He yelled through the keyhole and verified my true love was alive and well (minus the numb butt cheeks). What is the point of this story you ask???? After the gas station episode, Steve became obsessed with "bowel movement vacation planning" When ever we travel, about a week before we leave Steve starts his own personal home remedy to keep us out of rest stops.

Before this particular trip I had not been functioning as normally as I would have liked. We had just returned from visiting some friends. Now, as you can imagine from the comments above, Steve feels he is the authority on all things poop related. Over the course of our years together there have been a few times when the toilet may have overflowed after I used it. Now, I am sure I am not the only person on the planet who has clogged up the toilet. However, my husband has me totally convinced that I have larger then normal poop. It is because of this that I CANNOT under any circumstances poop at people's houses. I mean, what would I do if I clogged a friend's toilet???? Yell "fire in the hole" and run away????? Since we had spent 3 days at a friend's house I hadn't cleaned myself out for days. Since this isn't LA I couldn't exactly run out for a high colonic.

Well, my dear sweet husband decided that I needed to "get my bowels" moving again so we could enjoy every moment in Yellowstone. The days preceding our departure my husband "prescribed" a fiber diet and a daily stool softener. (by the way....Who decided that stool would be a great name for both poop and a wooden chair you sit on????) Being the dutiful, obedient wife I took my stool softener with a sweet smile on my face. (Okay, it was more to shut him up but I let him think I was obedient). We packed up the car and away we went!

What a beautiful drive we had! We saw Eagles, Grizzly Bears, Brown Bears, Wolves, Moose, basically we saw everything except for a bowel movement from yours truly. Every time I came out of the bathroom, there was my husband with his bathroom log! As he asked what number I produced, I watched him shake his head in worry. Now I was starting to become panicked. Was I going to die of an impacted colon???? How long could the average person go without pooping before you had to contact an oil drilling company to unplug you???? Did I need to swallow some string so he could pull it out the other end??? I needed help! It is only because Steve had me all worked up into this frantic state that I agreed to his suggestion. Before we started our day at Norris Geyser Basin Steve handed me 2!!!!! Stool softeners with a glass of prune juice! At this point I had been on the stool softening juice for about a week.

I don't know if you have been to Norris Geyser Basin but you need to understand two things. First, it is stove's favorite hike in Yellowstone. Second, the total loop is over 2 miles long. We joyfully strolled to Steamboat Geyser (I want to see that thing go off before I die). We passed Puff 'n Stuff Geyser and Green Dragon Geyser. And then it happened. As we were looking at the beautiful Porkchop Geyser (that is really it's name) my bowels made a noise that would scare a grown man! (Actually, I think an old tourist thought it was a werewolf growling!) There I was, miles from the nearest bathroom when my poop decided to make it's move. I froze in my tracks. I immediately did everything I could think of. I prayed, crossed myself (that might have worked if I was Catholic), I clenched my butt checks together, but one thing became apparent..... That poop was coming out one way or another. I quickly filled my husband in on the situation explaining that I needed a bathroom. It was then that my charming prince said to me, "but this is my favorite hike". I unclogged my ears in case I had misunderstood him. Didn't he just hear me explain that my bowels were going to explode??? What part didn't he get??? He kindly suggested that I run (didn't he understand that you can't run while clenching butt checks together?) two miles back to the bathroom. He informed me that he would continue on the hike and "catch up with me later". UNBELIEVABLE! I was comforted knowing that if I died all fingers would point to him when they found toxic levels of STOOL SOFTENERS in my system. I coldly replied, "fine". I started down the path when he called me back to his side. For a brief moment my heart softened. I thought okay, maybe he will see me naked again in this lifetime. My heart plummeted to the ground as reality set in. Steve just wanted me to take the binoculars (since I was going anyway) and the back pack (since it had Tucks Medicated Pads in it....He never travels unprepared). Once again, I started on the road back when a sweet little voice was heard calling, "mommy, wait up". This was the straw that broke the camels back!!! My husband yelled after me that, "since I was going anyway" I should cart my 7 year old back with me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He reminded me that he was taking Madison so the least I could do was help out by taking Brittney!

What followed next will live with me always. Remember Poltergeist? Remember when the mom needs to get to the door at the end of the hallway? The camera pans out and the door appears to be miles away. She runs and runs but the door doesn't get any closer! BINGO. I told dear sweet Brittney that we were going to try dad's suggestion and RUN! I really gave this a good effort but every time I ran, my bowels loosened more and more. I would run three steps and then have to stop, cross my legs, and pant. I literally had sweat pouring down my face. I tried Lamaze breathing (he he ha), I tried sitting on my butt and scooting along, I tried physically holding it in but I finally knew the awful truth........I was going to have to deface a National Park by pooping on the side of the path.

Now, I am a law abiding person! I have religiously taught my kids to follow the rules. All over the park there are signs that say, "thin crust area, stay on the path". On our way to the park we read our children a recent article describing how some kids had died from falling into the thermal waters at Yellowstone. It is for this reason that Brittney freaked out when I told her she was going to have to stand watch while I took care of business off the path. Brittney started crying, yelling for her dad because I was going to die. I looked around and spotted a sign from heaven.....A buffalo chip!!!! I pointed it out to Britt and asked, "if this spot can hold a buffalo, don't you think it can hold mommy!" (let me just take a moment to remind you to NEVER ask a child a question like this. You will be totally annoyed while they ponder the answer and then ask, "how much more do you weigh then the buffalo?"!!!!) Totally annoyed, I informed my child that she had a very important job to do. Her job was to stand as a lookout! If she saw or heard anyone coming she was to yell like there was no tomorrow.

I gently stepped off the path. I positioned myself about 5 feet from the buffalo chip. I briefly considered the headlines in the paper should I die with my butt plugging up a newfound geyser. Cursing the fact that I was wearing overalls, I put the backpack in my teeth while frantically trying to undo my overall straps. At this point, I knew things could get messy. As fast as I could, I dropped the straps, reached through my legs to grab them, shoved them into my mouth to join the backpack (I have a very big mouth), and dropped my drawers. Have you seen Dumb and Dumber? Remember when that one guy has the bathroom moment? Remember in Ace Ventura when Jim Carey says "do not go in there"? Remember in Daddy Daycare when Eddie Murphy opens the bathroom door to looks at the ceiling in horror? This was worse. One month's worth of poop came flying out of me in a semi-liquid form. My eyes rolled back in my head, I might have blacked out for a few moments. What was worse was I got to see it magnified because I had the damn binoculars around my neck pointed at the massive pile of goo! The only bright moment for me was the realization that I just lost 9 pounds in 3 seconds. I was putting the lid back on the Tucks reveling in my newfound liberation when I heard the blood-curdling yell from Britt. CRAP (literally)! Someone was coming!

I jumped back onto the path and ran with my straps trailing behind me. I swooped down, grabbed them and started buckling, all the while holding the backpack in my teeth. As I pulled the last strap over my shoulder and started fastening it, a kid around the age of 9 came running down the path. A few feet later, his parents followed. I took advantage of this teaching moment by stopping and hugging my child. I thanked her for her help and pointed out that everything was going to be fine. This was when we heard the little boy who had passed us yell, "mom, dad, I see a buffalo chip!". Brittney and I froze. Yep, you guessed it! This was followed by, "hey, this one is still fresh". We glanced behind us in horror. This boy had a stick and was, remember this is a true story, STIRRING MY POOP WITH A STICK!!!! Now I love nature a lot! However, I can't think of any instance when I would encourage my children to stir feces with a stick. The parents were approaching the child with a look of pride on their face. As they got closer to the massive pile of poop this little boy yelled, "I didn't know buffalo ate corn". The mom took the stick from the boy and she started examining my dump!!!!!! What is wrong with these people???? It was about the time I saw a used Tucks fly through the air that the mom exclaimed, "this isn't buffalo shit.....This is people shit!". DUH! What gave it away??? The Tucks or the corn??? At this point I yelled to my daughter, "RUN"!!!!

We ran until I thought my lungs would explode. (This didn't take much because we were both laughing so hard!) Once we got back to the Ranger Station we sat and waited for Steve and Madison to finish their hike. Finally, over the horizon, there they were! Britt and I went to meet them with happy, stool free smiles when we noticed the poop stirring family in back of them. I could have killed my dear sweet Madison when she yelled out......."Mom, did you make it to the bathroom on time?"

Well, there you have it! I have decided over the years that I am God's court jester. My life is one embarrassing moment after another. I wish these were isolated events but they are not. If your day is somehow brighter from reading my sad stories then let me know! I have plenty more of these!!!!

I know Victoria's secret!!!!

Ok, so here's my thing.......My husband recently celebrated a birthday. I realize this should be a time of celebration but at my house it isn't! Every year for his birthday and our anniversary he asks for the same thing. You see, he has a dirty fantasy. His dream is for me to wear the "slave Leia" costume from Return of the Jedi. Do you remember it???? It's a little gold bikini complete with a shackle and chain around the neck!!!! Now, I'm not sure if this is a reminder for me that I am "shackled" to him for eternity (don't you just love it when Leia wraps the chain around Jabba the Hut's neck and kills him!!!!) or just a creepy guy thing. We have been married for 16 years now and he has requested this of me for every one of them! He has even gone so far as to reserve the costume from a local costume shop in my name just in case I want to pick it up on my way home from work. Now, I have two very strong objections to this. First, I have no doubt that one of my three children would walk into the room during the "re-enactment" and mistake me for Jabba the Hut! Second, I once attempted to wear lingerie for my husband years ago.....I ended up with 34 stitches.

Shortly after our first anniversary, while getting my hair cut, I was reading one of those slutty magazines. (You know the ones....They have all the secrets to bigger boobs, smaller hips, and how to satisfy your man with common items found in the refrigerator!) There was an article that describe how men are more prone to have an affair in the first 7 years of marriage. This article went on to describe countless ways to "keep your man satisfied". In an effort to save my marriage I continued reading this article. I became determined to save my marriage!!!! As I read the list I started to worry. Many of the things on the list were out of the question for me! I mean, honestly, like I would be able to install a swing from the ceiling of our bedroom. I considered the suggestion of going to a get together where I nonchalantly whispered into my husband's ear, "I'm not wearing underwear". You were supposed to follow this up with a quick "sneak-peak". I'm sure this works well in the movies but let me tell you the reality of the situation. If you have big thighs like mine, it loses something to have to pry your sweaty thighs apart for the "sneak-peak". Not to mention, 15 minutes of my thighs rubbing together would leave them looking like a bad case of teenager acne. I finally found a suggestion that would work for me. I would leave the house for a routine reason and come home wearing something sexy underneath. When I came home and started changing my husband would be overcome with desire and love for me, his wonderful wife.

Part one of my plan consisted of me going to the store to buy lingerie. Now, when my sister got married she received about 30 different lingerie outfits. When I had my bridal shower I was given cookware. I'm sure there is a message in there somewhere. I decided to go to the very best for my plan. I drove to the mall and entered a Victoria's Secret. I must admit I was a little overwhelmed when 5 girls "came at me" with measuring tapes. Since I knew I hadn't been "Sweating to the Oldies" with Richard Simmons, I started to quickly retreat. This was when I discovered Victoria's secret! She doesn't make anything in that store that would fit me!!!!!! I found the biggest employee (size 4 1/2 I think) and told her my situation. She said she would help me find the perfect number. She brought me some things to peruse. I started to get into the spirit of things when I noticed a pirate patch among the outfits. I love pirates and besides this patch had a fancy bow on the back of it!!! I put it on my right eye and started hopping around the store yelling "aaaarrrgggghhh". Boy was my husband going to be excited! When the girl came back with more ideas for me she had this look of utter horror on her face. I must admit I wasn't very happy when she told me to take my patch off. I told her she would have to make me or walk the plank!!! This was when she whispered into my ear that I had a pair of panties on my head. She calmly showed me how the elastic was supposed to "tuck neatly" up my butt crack out of the way leaving only the bow showing in the back. The front part (remember, it was only big enough to cover my right eye) was supposed to cover the front of my delicate maidenhood!!!!!! WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY WAS SHE THINKING??????? Horrible thoughts started racing through my head! If these were panties then were was that piece of parchment paper that has to cover the crotch until the consumer purchases it? Can you get a yeast infection in your eye??? Would you even see the small triangle of black fabric under the roll of fat that would fall over it????? I couldn't help but ask these questions. At this point I was humiliated. I quickly bought the undies (what choice did I have now) and a top to match and ran for my car!!!!!!!

Part two of my plan was about as successful as the first. I rarely went anywhere in the first years of marriage with the exception of water aerobics. Now, after the lingerie experience I was starting to doubt the wisdom of this carefully planned seduction. As I was leaving for my class I decided to up the ante, so to speak. I left my underthings at home and only brought my "pirate number" with me. I managed to make it through another night of water aerobics without drowning myself. When class ended I made my way to the locker room. I must be a shy person by nature because I have never been able to strip totally naked in a locker room in front of complete strangers. While my fellow classmates where butt naked hosing each other off, I carefully tried to get as much chlorine off my body while keeping my swimsuit on!! At the Provo Recreation Center there is a big room where people can change. They also have bathroom stalls and 3 rooms to change in that have curtains. I was able to secure a room with a curtain to change in. At last, I thought, a sign from heaven above!!!! This quickly proved to be a mistake. As I took my swimsuit off and turned to get my "pirate patch" my wet butt stuck to the curtain yanking it open. There I was exposed for all to see. OH, THE HORROR!!! I can't quite remember now but I am sure there were gasps. I like to equate it to the feeling you have when you are at the zoo watching a gorilla eat his own poop! I tried turning the other way but the curtain was still stuck to my butt. At this point I grabbed my clothes and ran to a bathroom stall. I took the handicapped stall because 1: it is bigger then the other stalls and 2: how many wheelchair bound people do water aerobics????

Have you ever gone to the bathroom in a swimming facility??? Well, the floor is completely covered in water. This wouldn't be so bad if it was fresh water but it is chlorinated brown water. Why is it brown you ask??? Because people who haven't entered the pool yet have walked barefoot through the bathroom to the pool. All of the dirt, fungus, and grim from there feet mingles and mixes with the wet floor to create a sludgy substance. Added to this is clumps of toliet paper. Now, I've never been able to understand how the toilet paper ends up on the floor and after this experience I stopped trying to figure it out. Well, I was finally at the moment of truth. I pulled out the "pirate patch" and started putting it on. As I lifted my foot to place it into the panties, my other foot slipped on the above mentioned sludge floor. I went down faster then a quart of Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Unfortunately for me, my head broke the fall by hitting the, yes this is a true story, Tampon receptacle!!!! As I cut my eye open on the sharp corner of the menstruation contraption it threw me backwards where I struck my head on the toilet paper holder and the toilet seat. (If only I had thought to wrap one of the seat protectors around my head before I began). At this point, I was propelled underneath 3 stalls.

When I came to.....Several things registered in my brain at once. The first was I was bleeding from at least two open wounds. The second was my head was resting in the crotch of some stranger's underwear. The third was this stranger wasn't going "number one". Trying to save what little dignity I had left, I attempted to get up and out of this stall as quickly as possible. I was very dizzy and had to literally crawl my way up this poor woman. If only I had successfully gotten the panties on before the fall! Then the woman could look at the bow on my butt as I tried to leave. Upon leaving the stall I fell to my knees with weakness. This attracted some attention. Several people came over to assist me. I tried to tell them I would be alright but I guess they didn't believe me since someone called 911. As I was trying to find the pieces of my lingerie (yes, I broke the elastic in the fall), the paramedic arrived. They tried to clean me up but suggested I come with them to the hospital for stitches. I resisted until one of them reminded me I should probably have a tetanus shot due to the possible feces that entered my body. It looked like a trip to the hospital was in my near future.

At this point I tried to find my clothes for my next adventure. I found my shirt in the toilet and my pants were behind it soaking wet. Since the lingerie was ripped, someone suggested I put my swimsuit back on. Have you ever tried to put a wet bathing suit back on? It wasn't very successful. I couldn't even get it untangled. So yep, you guessed it, I went to the hospital in a towel. After watching the emergency room team laugh hysterically, they stitched me up. I had a grand total of 34 stitches, one antibiotic shot, and one tetanus shot. After 4 hours I drove home (I refused to let them call my husband). As I opened the front door my husband quickly ran to the door. He said he had been frantic with worry and where had I been. Then he looked at me with concern in his eyes and demanded to know where I had been and what had happened. I took the broken elastic from the panties and used it as a sling shot. After hitting my husband with the bow I started sobbing. I told him to go ahead and have an affair! I then ran up the stairs and locked myself in my room for 2 days.

So there you have it. My sad story of why I am anti-lingerie. Do you understand why I cannot wear the Princess Leia costume? I mean, what's a girl supposed to do???? If you have any ideas let me know! Help me Obi Wan Kenobe.....You're my only hope!