I Already Have My BS in Pooponomics

12 10 2011

I’ll be the first to admit that I, like many parents, am far too comfortable discussing my child’s bathroom habits. It’s a sad but true fact that changing diapers removes the taboo that exists in society regarding poop talk. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as children’s bowels do odd things and it’s reassuring to talk to other parents and know that your child doesn’t need to be rushed to the hospital before something horrifying and irreversible (possibly involving a colostomy bag) happens.

Advertising executives are aware of this crucial time in parents’ lives and (being the soul-sucking bottom-feeders they are) they do their best to capitalize on it. I’m not fond of this. As relaxed as I am about describing the consistency of my son’s last bowel movement, I balk when I see an ad that features the word “poo” in large bold letters.

The latest offender:

Give Poop a Chance? Seriously? I’d love to know how many hours went into that slogan.

On second thought, maybe I don’t want to know.

*Random thought: Do you think the ad campaign was thought up by an ad exec while he/she was sitting on the toilet?

**This ad was in the Reader’s Digest. My love for that magazine just keeps growing.

***If I see one more commercial for the remake of Footloose, I will stab someone. Is nothing sacred?

Wordless Wednesday – Every 6-Year-Old’s Got One

20 07 2011

See it?

Your Kids Could Use a New Hobby

4 06 2011

I love where I live.

Today I was looking at information about the County Fair. I’ve never actually been to the county fair—I’m a little freaked out by all that pie baking and livestock showing. Also, I’m pretty sure it smells like poo. However, my anti-fair stance might change this year, as I discovered the fair holds a fantastic yearly competition:

Now, a taxidermy competition is plenty awesome, but it gets even better when you see the first class of competition:

No. Way.

This, of course, piqued my interested. Are there really a lot of budding taxidermists out there? I Googled “taxidermy for kids” to find an answer. Strangely, there’s not a lot of information out there about classes for Big G unless I want to move to Guyana (I do not). Apparently the best way to get Big G involved in taxidermy is to encourage him to collect roadkill.

I’m not making that up.

From Amy’s Animal Art Taxidermy: “My interest began as a hobby at age 13, when I would pick up roadkill and practice skinning and tanning the hides.”

Amy, now in her 20s, is an accomplished taxidermist with many happy customers:

I don’t know that “happy” is necessarily the adjective I’d use, but what do I know?

Ah, screw it. I don’t know anything. I’ll just take the kids to Build-A-Bear. That’s pretty much the same thing, right?

*Best summer camp course ever: “Mad Science: Plush Toy Taxidermy.”

Just in Time for Christmas!

4 12 2010

I have a Google alert set up for articles about my autoimmune issues. Today I clicked over to one, only to find it featured those really annoying little key word ads—you know, the hyperlinked ads that pop up a little window when you hover over a word. It was distracting. And annoying.


I don’t even want to know.

Also, I’d like to apologize to those readers who feel they didn’t need to know my period started. After I posted last night I thought, “You know, my readers really don’t need to know that.” That thought was immediately followed by, “But if I only tell them what they need to know, this will be the world’s shortest blog,” because when it comes down to it, none of you need to know any of this stuff. You obviously want to know it. Why else would you keep coming back? Unless you have some sort of self-flagellation thing going on. But if that’s it, I really don’t want to know about it, so I’ll pretend you really want to know about stuff like vomiting toddlers and my period starting.

I like how we have an understanding about these things.

In Summation

3 12 2010
  • Vomiting 2-year-old with bonus! diarrhea
  • Whiny 5-year-old with cold (much worse than it sounds when said 5-year-old has a grotesquely long tongue and the disturbing tendency to lick the snot off his nose)
  • Early arrival of period complete with headache, cramps, and hellacious acne

People? I’m done with this day.

Money-Saving Measures

13 11 2010

Another Peevish Pharmacy Post

6 11 2010

Notice how my angry pharmacy posts pop up when I work 10-hour shifts? How very coincidental!

Customer: “Do I have refills on my diabetic test strips?”
Me: “The prescription expired seven months ago.”
Customer: “Oh. Well, I only have a few left.”

I check her profile. She last filled test strips eight months ago.

Eight. Months.

Today she comes in and begs us to float her some test strips, because she’s totally out and she really needs them and what will she do without test strips because then she won’t know what her blood sugar is and maybe even go into a diabetic coma and then won’t we feel so bad!

Okay, I’m exaggerating that last bit. But really? She couldn’t manage to get a new prescription during those eight months?


I’ve been compiling a new list of petty annoyances:

  • Remember when I talked about my archnemesis, the drive-thru? I’m adding a new item to the etiquette list: When I ask for your picture ID, simply holding it up to the camera doesn’t cut it. Who even does that? (Spoiler: our customers.)
  • And not to harp on that whole picture ID thing (I know, I know. I bring it up in every pharmacy post.), but your LDS temple recommend is not an acceptable form of ID. I’m sure you’re a great person and all, and I’m happy that you’re worthy to attend the temple…but no. Not happening.
  • Two weeks ago, I returned 36 prescriptions that never got picked up. We do this once a week, and always have at least 20 to put back. Why are you people going to the doctor if you don’t actually need medicine? It annoys me.
  • This conversation needs to stop happening:
    Customer: “I should have a prescription called in.”
    Me: “I’m sorry. There’s nothing here.”
    Customer: “But the doctor’s office said they called it in.”
    Me: “Well…I’m sorry. We haven’t received anything yet.”
    Customer: “But they said they called it in!”
    I’d like nothing better than to wave my magic wand and make prescriptions magically appear, but thus far that particular skill has eluded me. I promise I’ll let you know when I get it figured out.
  • If your prescription was filled over two weeks ago, we’ve returned it to stock. Seriously. Do you know how many prescriptions we’d have sitting around if we didn’t do that? Also, insurance companies don’t really like it when we accept money from them for medications you don’t pick up. They’re funny like that. So yeah, you’re going to have to give me a little time to get it ready again.
  • I’m really, really sorry your insurance company requires a prior authorization on your medication, but I can’t force the prescription through. That’s something that has to be resolved between your insurance and your doctor, so please stop getting angry with me when it doesn’t work.

Okay, this last one? Pay attention, folks. I’m aware that things happen to your prescriptions. You’ve got kids, things spill, etc. That said, when you hand me a prescription that looks like it has bodily fluids smeared across the surface, please tell me what happened. The phrase, “I’m so sorry, I spilled my coffee” goes a long way toward allaying my fear of whatever horrible diseases I’m going to contract from touching that nasty piece of paper you’re handing to me.

Unless, you know, it really is some sort of bodily fluid. GACK.

Thank you, lovely readers, for letting me get that off my chest. I feel much better.

*Really, WordPress Proofreader? You don’t know what an archnemesis is? If I had any respect for you, it would totally be gone now.

“Highly entertaining,” you say?

21 10 2010

My brother forwarded this e-mail with a comment: “This has to be the stupidest contest I’ve ever seen. I really hope this is fake and really doesn’t have any connection to Disney.”

Guess what, Pete? I did extensive research (okay, I went to http://www.disneyfamily.com) and it’s completely legit. Well, as legit as a contest including toilet stories can be.

The best part? You can read people’s submissions. My personal favorite:

“We have 7 indoor cats and one of their favorite places to visit with us is in the bathroom. Several of them often surprise us by popping onto our laps as we relax on the toilet. Two of our babies like stealing toilet paper and attacking them like mad. One of them likes to surprise Dad as he stands over the toilet in a VERY unpleasant way. Either way everyday is highly entertaining with our cats in our bathroom.”

Where do I even start? With the statement “as we relax on the toilet”? Perhaps the fact that she calls her husband Dad and her cats babies?

Those are both concerning, but I think we’d better focus on one key point here: “One of them likes to surprise Dad as he stands over the toilet in a VERY unpleasant way.”

You have to watch out for those dangling participles. And let’s not forget the old saying, “Claw my testicles once, shame on you. Claw my testicles twice, shame on me.”

Thank you very much! I’ll be here all week! Please tip your waitresses!

Competent But Not Continent

10 09 2010

Back before I had kids, I would say things like, “I’m laughing so hard I’m going to pee my pants!” It amused me, because obviously I wouldn’t really pee my pants. I mean, who does that? Laughs so hard that they pee?

Fast-forward to my fourth pregnancy (you know, the first one that actually stuck). I posted this story over at the Preeclampsia Foundation forums:

My allergies have been getting progressively worse, to the point that even 2 Benadryl doesn’t keep them at bay. So I spend my days trying to sneeze and snort, because it’s really not considered polite, especially when you’re counting people’s pills.

Well, yesterday, I was taking a prescription from a woman, and I had to get information from her. I knew I was going to sneeze, so I turned away and sneezed once and managed to keep it in, but the second sneeze, snot goes flying out of my nose onto my shirt and–here’s the kicker–I pee my pants. And I’ve got a customer standing behind me, waiting for me to turn around. Fortunately, the snot was such that I covered it with my vest, and the accident didn’t manage to make it through the baggy maternity pants, so I turned around, finished with her, and then ran to the bathroom.

Sadly, that wasn’t the only time I had stress incontinence during that pregnancy, and it culminated with my water breaking but me being completely unaware because I figured I’d just peed myself again.

Good times. Fortunately, after I had Big G, I returned to being my normal, pee-stays-in-the-bladder-until-I-go-to-the-bathroom self, and all was well…

…until I got pregnant again. Try not to laugh at me when you read this, but when my water broke with Little G? Same thing. I thought I’d peed my pants. Shut up. If you were less than 30 weeks pregnant, you wouldn’t assume ruptured membranes either!

After Little G, I went back to my normal life, confident that all my issues would soon resolve.

I was delusional.

Fortunately, my incontinence is of the stress variety, so it’s mostly confined to coughing, sneezing, and vomiting. (I just painted the most glamorous picture of myself, didn’t I?) Believe me when I say I never miss a dose of my allergy pills.

None of this had a huge effect on my life until I got pneumonia. Pneumonia fact: there’s a lot of coughing involved when you’re drowning in your own phlegm. Veritable paroxysms of coughing. Coughing that would make even the most muscular of bladders give way, and my bladder? Not so muscular.

I don’t even know why I tell you people these things, other than to share with you the awesome moment when Big G said:

“Mom, you should sit on the potty when you cough so you don’t pee your pants.”

*For the love of all things holy, WordPress Proofreader, peed is SO a valid word! Haven’t we covered this already?

And Then My Kid Pooped on My Face

28 08 2010

I had a migraine last night. I felt it sneaking up on me, so I took some aspirin-free Excedrin. Then I took Maxalt. It didn’t budge, so I took Zofran for the nausea, Flexeril to relax, and gave myself an intramuscular injection of Toradol (the impressive anti-inflammatory the emergency room gives you for migraines).

Impressive, I know.

So I end up in a dark room, curled in a ball, waiting for the pain to go away. Car puts on a movie for the kids, and then he apparently decides to bake cookies. Yes, he’s a domestic god. But making cookies distracts him from the most important task–keeping the kids away from poor, incapacitated mommy.

There I am in the darkened room. I hear little footsteps. Oh, look! Little G has come to visit me. I figure hey, if he starts bugging me, I can call for Car. Little G climbs up on the bed. How sweet! He wants to be next to his mommy! So he crawls over my head (Why crawl over a leg? Where’s the fun in that?) and as he does this, I feel something wet on my face. This is concerning. Then…the smell. It’s like something has died in his diaper. And now my cheek is damp, which is highly concerning.

This entire episode ends with:

  1. Yelling for Car.
  2. Vigorously scrubbing my face.
  3. Car wondering what we feed Little G to deserve such punishment.

I’m sharing this experience so you can have a laugh at my expense. I also think it’ll be lovely natural birth control for young couples. What can I say? I’m a giver. If you’re totally grossed out and wish you’d never read this post, well, join the club. You read my blog, and must suffer with me. (*insert evil laughter*)

*For some reason I’m much more comfortable with the word “poop” than I am with “poo.” I have no idea why.