Bathroom Cleaning Day

Ugh.....bathroom cleaning day.

Yes, I designate a day to clean the bathroom. Why? Because I hate it so much, I have to psych myself up to do it.

"OK, Shawn. Tomorrow is bathroom cleaning day. You've put it off way too long, so tomorrow's the day. It can't wait any longer. Things are starting to take on a life of their own behind the toilet. It's scary. No more excuses. Tomorrow you clean the bathroom."


Want to know why I hate cleaning the bathroom so much? It's the toilet. With so many males living here, the toilet......gross. I can't even think about it without nausea setting in. I swear they do it on purpose.

"OK, son. It's up to you and me now. With your brother away at college, we need to step up our game plan. Your mom, she's starting to feel a little less needed around here. By making sure the bathroom is a disaster, she will feel better. "


"But Dad...."


"No buts. We're doing this for your mother, son. Never forget that."


"OK Dad, but...."


"Son, just shut your mouth and do what you're told. We'll split the duties. I'll take the toilet. I'm taller and can create more of a splash. You take wet towel and dirty laundry duty. Make sure to leave your wet towels balled up in the corner and stuff some dirty underwear behind the toilet so when I take my morning pee, they will be sure to be part of it."


"Alright, Dad, but I don't think....."


"I'm not asking you to think. Always remember, this is for your mother. Now, go get 'em!"

My Other Blog

I bet you guys didn't know that I author another blog called "Live, Laugh, Blog."

That's right. More sarcastic humor for your entertainment. Aren't you so happy?

Hop on over there and check it out. Leave me a comment or two, if it trips your trigger, and I'll be sure to respond.

That is all.

It's My Birthday Today

Woke up this morning to find this

Handmade birthday card from my daughter

waiting for me on my desk. 

The husband remembered, too, and told me 'Happy Birthday' before leaving for work. AND, my mom and dad called to sing 'Happy Birthday' to me before they left for work. 

All before 7am!

It's the little things like this that make it all worth while.

Smells Like Pickles

The other night, after brushing my teeth, I crawled into bed and snuggled up next to the husband.

"What have you been eating?" he asked with a look of disgust on his face.

"Nothing! I just brushed my teeth. Why?" I responded, a little hurt by his question.

"Your breath smells like pickles," he said, still with that look.

"Fine," I thought. "No sex for you tonight."


I rolled over to my side of the bed and went to sleep. I vaguely remember him asking me what he had done to make me mad as I drifted off to sleep.

A couple of days later, the daughter rudely burst into the bathroom as she's known to do when I'm in there. I was brushing my teeth, and she began to ask me something about this, that, or the other, when all of a sudden she stops and says, "It smells like pickles in here."

Whaaaa??

I spit and rinsed, than asked her to repeat herself.

"It smells like pickles in here. What did you cook downstairs?" she asked hoping it was something she liked.

"I didn't cook anything," I said, narrowing my eyes into slits while clenching my teeth.

She continued on with whatever it was she had come in the bathroom to discuss and left.

I took the tube of toothpaste out of the medicine cabinet to make sure I wasn't brushing with something other than the "Close-Up" toothpaste I had bought. You know the brand. It's the only one that has a cinnamon-y flavor and a silhouette of a couple kissing on the package. I'm the only one in the family that likes this toothpaste, so I'm quite happy to have the tube all to myself, free of the dried toothpaste goobers and lost caps that plague the other tubes in the downstairs bathroom where everyone else brushes.

Didn't Close-Up used to have something about being "kissably fresh"? How the hell is someone supposed to be kissably fresh when they smell like pickles?

Here's an old Close-Up commercial. Seriously. These people must all love pickles.

Missed My Calling

I think I missed my calling. Having kids means a mother has to be a lot of things, but I'm beginning to think that above all else, I should have studied to be a doctor. Or, at the very least, a nurse.

In the last month, we have been to the doctor, for one child or another, more times than in the last two years combined. How easy it would be if I could just say, "Oh, you've got a stomach flu and you'll stop puking your guts out after it runs its course." Or, "That rash is just an allergic reaction to the nickel in your belt buckle. Put this cream on it and take these pills and you'll be fine and dandy in no time."

This knowledge would have saved me $250 in the last two weeks alone!

And don't get me started on the fact that the child with the rash refused to listen to me months ago when the rash first began when I told her to stop wearing the stupid belt. Who knew that continuing to wear it would cause a full-blown, body-wide rash that would itch non-stop, cause a break-through seizure (she has epilepsy), and require a trip to two different doctors and several medications and lotions?

All in the name of keeping her pants up. Sheesh......

The child with the stomach thing will be going to the doctor today. He's missed three days of school so far this week, pukes randomly throughout the day, and complains of heartburn almost daily after eating. Could be something more than a stomach flu, but without that doctor's training, who am I to say?