TMI PSA

WARNING: The following blog entry contains material of a sensitive nature. If you are uncomfortable reading about grown-up hoo-ha's and po-po's, please do not read this post. If you are my father, you are forbidden to read this post. Your mind's eye will go blind and I will die of embarassment.

For the rest of you who are still with me, this is a Public Service Announcement for the ladies. I shall relay it to you via my own personal experience.

We had run out of toilet paper. This is not a common occurence, as I put it on every shopping list. In my opinion, you can never have too much toilet paper. Toilet paper is a solid investment. It is always in demand. An abundant supply of toilet paper will never detract from the value of toilet paper. But there we were. There I was. Business done. No toilet paper in sight. I looked behind me to the top of the toilet tank, where I normally keep a box of baby wipes. Even after your babies are grown a bit, wipes are a great thing to have. Gets "things" really clean. Empty. No baby wipes.

Next to the empty wipes box is an attractive tube of pre-moistened towelettes. Spring Waterfall scent. Doesn't that sound lovely? It says "Quick - Convenient." In my current predicament, it certainly was convenient. "Oh, boy, this will get me cleaner than I have ever been, and Spring Waterfall fresh, to boot!"

Ladies: Never, ever, ever, never, never, never, ever, never EVER clean your most delicate area with Lysol (Disinfects!) Sanitizing Wipes. You don't want to be that clean. There's a delicate balance that goes on down there that you don't want to be messing with. You don't notice it right away. In fact, you don't notice it for several hours. That first night, you're thinking, "Dang, that's a bit itchy back there. Did I not clean myself thoroughly enough??" Which, of course, can't be, because you are Sanitized and Disinfected! And Spring Waterfall fresh!

The next day all hell breaks loose. And you don't know if your nether regions are turning red because there's something seriously wrong down there, or because you have scratched that itch so much, because there is something SERIOUSLY WRONG DOWN THERE. You wonder what caused it. You've been in the pool a lot. Could it be the chlorine and various chemicals? Then you remember that some little snot-nose pooped in the pool a week or so ago. That little shit (literally) infected me, you think.

You try every ointment, cream, lotion, and salve in your house. You send your husband out for products no self-respecting man should ever have to purchase. You try to move as little as possible, and when you are up and about, you hope your children don't see you and pick up on your newfound scratching habit.

I'd like to say I realized the source of my discomfort before I leapt to the wild conclusion that my awesome #1 husband in the world had brought this burning beast home. I'd like to, but by then the itch had clearly made its way to the rational thought area of my brain. Fortunately, we were able to laugh at the outlandishness of that possibility immediately.

So... three - four days later, lesson learned. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. But for those of you who would, it would certainly be easy enough to.... oh dear God no! Think of the children! Like the one that pooped in the pool....

Update

Hey, everybody. No stories today (unless I go off on a tangent, what are the odds of that?) It's just been a while since I put anything up, so I thought I would let you know how things have been here the past couple weeks.

I thought about doing a timeline post on the kids going to bed, noting times and events that are delaying their actual going to sleep. Aw, what the heck, I'll give you the Reader's Digest condensed version here, sans timeline. It begins when I actually get them into their beds, and continues for anywhere from half an hour to an hour:

Hannah: I have to say goodnight to Daddy.
Hannah: I have to tell you something.
Hannah: I have to tell you something else.
Chris: I'm thirsty.
John: I'm thirsty, too.
John: I have to go poopies.
Hannah: Where's John?
John: I'm done going poopies.
Chris: I have to go poopies.
Chris: I was wrong.
John: Twenty questions.
Chris: Long, rambling story.
Hannah: I need toilet paper for my peepees.
Mom: Why is Hannah in your bedroom, Boys?
Hannah: I have to tell you something.
John: I think I saw a spaceship.

So, that night, after the spaceship comment, I decided to keep pad and pen with me and write down the times and delay tactics of the kids. But the next day, the more I thought about it, the stronger my resolve got to put an end to that kind of bedtime ritual. That night, they were not only quiet, but asleep in under half an hour. They didn't call out to me thirty times, the boys didn't horse around in their rooms, Hannah didn't sneak out of her room. Since then, I have managed to shave off five minutes every night. The times, they are a' changin'.

Side anecdote: John was eating a popsicle, and I gave him a bowl to put it in when he needed his hands free for this or that. He asked me (I heard), "Mom, what's a bowl?" I said, "You know what a bowl is! You're holding it in your hands!" "No," he said, "..a (bull), you know, with the handles on his head?"

The first week of swim lessons went great. Their teacher, Miss Julie, is wonderful. Chris is a natural. After only four lessons, he is swimming with his face submerged, unsupported! All by himself!!! Hannah is right on target, as is John, with the exception that he doesn't want to put his whole face in the water.

Work is going great for Jeff, they're getting busier and busier. Uncle John came to visit us last Saturday. We are all so thrilled to have John and (soon) Melinda living so close now.

Hey, if you haven't talked to us in a while, give us a call. The pace around here is pretty hectic, and I don't often think to pick up the phone to make a call. Mornings are usually best.

A big Thank You to Marilyn for the Rose of Sharon starters she sent us! They are planted and being nurtured. We look forward to their beautiful blooms (in a few years, I know -- we're patient!)

Leisure Suit Larry, Meet Cruisin' Chris

We've been going to the pool pretty much every day, sometimes twice a day. I really love going to the pool with them, because they have so much fun, and are so well-behaved. Something about the pool really brings out their sociable side. As soon as we get there, we're supposed to sign in with the lifeguard by the Gate. Chris has taken on this responsibility. Today, it went exactly like this:

C: Hello, we're the IncredibLee family. There's four of us. I'm Chris. What's your name?
M: Hi, Chris, I'm Matt.
C: I'm very pleased to meet you, Matt!
J: I'm John!
H: I'm Hannah!
J: What are those in your mouth?
M: Those are braces.
C: I knew those were braces!
J: I like your braces.
H: They're pretty!
C: Timmy's friend Chester in the Fairly OddParents has braces and that's how I knew they were braces just like Timmy's friend Chester in the Fairly OddParents!
L: Okay, kids, are you ready to go in the water?
ALL: It was a pleasure to meet you, Matt! Good-bye!

They really love all the lifeguards there. They make a point to find out each one's names and chat them up a bit. But Chris... Chris really likes the lifeguards.

About a week ago, Chris pulled me over to the side of the pool to "tell me something in my ear." He whispered, "I think I'm going to find my girlfriend here." He began scoping out all the chicks. I mean all of them. Even the middle-school girls, who were clearly out of his league. I watched him slowly drift through the water closer and closer to different girls, checking them out, like some smooth operator in a dance club. Then, he saw Bethany. Behold beautiful Bethany, in all her red-swimsuited glory. Floaty thing laying casually across her strong tanned thighs, whistle dangling languidly from her wrist. The polish on her smartly pedicured toenails even matched her swimsuit. Bethany. Sigh.

He walked right up to her and introduced himself in order to learn her name. He told her he knew a song about Bethany. My own heart melted as he proceeded to serenade her with lyrics primarily consisting of "Bethany." I can only imagine how she felt.

So, we went to the pool this afternoon, and you know what? It turns out he also knows a song about "Ashley!"

Germs, God & Google

John is such a thinker. So many questions. Recently he has had a lot of questions about life, death, germs and cancer. He asked me what germs look like. I said I wasn't really certain, but I think they look like teeny tiny little blobs. To give him as accurate an answer as possible, I did a Google image search for germs.



Yesterday he asked me what God looks like. I told him I didn't know, because nobody gets to see God until they die and their spirit goes to Heaven. Of course, just out of curiosity, I did an image search for God as well.



I'll bet a lot of us kind of imagine Charleton Heston in the role of Moses towards the end of The Ten Commandments when we try to picture God. So, hesitantly, John asked, "Mommy, when you're a spirit, can you magic me back a picture of God?"

On*Star

I just saw a commercial for On*Star, one of those mobile Global Satellite Positioning companies. The ad goes something along the lines of: "Some people, when involved in a collision, see their lives flash before their eyes. Some people hear voices." ((Voiceover of the On*Star guy saying he sees that this guy's airbags have deployed and he is sending help)).

If I worked for On*Star, I would have a seriously hard time refraining from sending the following message to the driver, just once: "This is the Lord Your God. We're not letting you in. Now, return to Earth and amend your ways. (muttered under breath: Jerk.)"

Heat Wave

It's been around 90 degrees every day for the past week, and the kids and I have been taking advantage of the fact that the pool is only a two minute walk from our house. I've signed them up for swimming lessons -- all three in the same class. How am I going to manage that? I need four extra arms. We bought the kids those swimsuits with the built-in foam -- kind of a combination life jacket/swimsuit. The first day they hit the water wearing them, they were doggy-paddling all over the place. I was hovering over Hannah, nervous, but she was so confident she kept telling me to get out of her way!

When we were in Kentucky, their Aunt Melinda gave them these adorable towel/robes:



As a side note, I was wondering... since we're at the pool every day, is it considered gross to wear the same swimsuit every day? Should you wear something different most days, like you would normally change clothes? Are the other moms looking at me and whispering, "There she is, wearing that polka-dot swimsuit AGAIN! Poor thing. Someone should really say something to her."

Also, I realized on our trip back from Kentucky that apparently I have given birth to a mini Donald Trump. Whenever Mao was on a power trip and not getting her way, she would bellow, "You're FIRED!!" John ate one of her Cheetos, so naturally Mao fired him, to which John replied, "What?! I don't even WORK!"