It’s been one of those weeks. You know how things just keep going wrong and nothing seems to go right? Yeah, that was last week for us.
In an attempt to make this blog a more uplifting and less whiny place, I’ve decided that I won’t post all the gory woe-is-me details.
Nope. I just won’t do it.
Like I refuse to tell y’all how Garrett got sick with a nasty stomach bug that we later determined to be rota virus. How we changed dirty diapers round the clock for a few days, and then we dealt with the flaming red diaper rash that resulted from all the dirty diapers. How J and I both caught his virus and were miserably sick on Tuesday and Wednesday, but still had to take care of Garrett in between runs to the bathroom. Thanks be to my sister who came and got him on Wednesday morning so that we could sleep it off all day. I won’t tell you how Garrett refused to eat, he wouldn’t drink, he was pitiful. How every single day this past week he has woken up at 4:00 am screaming with a blowout diaper that required a tub bath and a scrub down of his crib and sheets and pajamas and then of course the bathtub after he gets out.
Instead of telling you all of that I’m going to say how thankful I am for disposable diapers. I may try to pretend like I’m all eco-friendly and going green and saving the earth and eating crunchy granola over on my Watkins website. But the fact is, I’m an Alabama fatty that drives a big gas guzzling Yukon and have swathed my child in disposable diapers since the day he was born.
And I’m ok with that.
Well, maybe not that fatty part, but the rest of it? Sure.
So instead of telling you about the ravages of the rota virus, I’m going to give thanks to the makers of Pampers. Because those disposable diapers may have saved my life last week. Let me say that I am so very happy to live in an age where we can make the choice between cloth diapers and disposables. I won’t get into it too much, but when the plague struck, my kid turned into a 24/7 poo producing machine. And not just any poo. Liquid poo that makes each little particle of absorbent gel inside of a disposable diaper swell up like Violet Beauregard. We pushed those diapers to the max last week, man. And while I can’t say that they didn’t explode or leak or cause a rash, I CAN say that I didn’t have to touch them again after they were removed from the crime scene. They were outside in the trash can never to be seen again and I am sane because of that. I didn’t go off the deep end from nonstop poo cleaning duty for a week. My washing machine and I thank you Mr. Pampers.
Which brings me to another thing I’m thankful for this week.
Thanks be you, Dear Trash Can Pickup Man, for hauling away my family’s disgusting filth from the curb of our house. Because we don’t have that convenience at our lake cabin, which was a damn shame yesterday when J had to hold a trash bag out the open window of the car while I drove to the dumpster that is five miles down the road.
But I won’t go into the details of why he couldn’t put the trash bag inside the car with us.
No. I won’t talk about that here because I’ve invited a big group of my internet friends down to the lake cabin in the Fall and I’m scared if I told them about the family(ies) of mice that took up residence in my t-shirt drawer those women may never even consider stepping foot in Alabama, much less that cabin. We won’t talk about just how many mice may or may not still be in the cabin as we speak, but based on the amount of mouse turds that were scattered around every inch of the cabin, I’d say there was a pretty large family of mice that moved in. It was like Big Daddy Mouse said, “Hey kids! Let’s go find a nest in the hills, chill like Flint. Buy an old drop-top and find a spot to pimp!”
I won’t talk about how the mice got into our food in the cabinet and scattered peanut shells all around the kitchen. Or how we found a dead mouse floating in the toilet. With the toilet lid down. Somebody explain that one to me please. Maybe he ate too many peanuts and had to go really bad. Maybe he had rota virus, too. I don’t really know.
But we’re not talking about that, right? We especially won’t mention how the mice chewed up an entire roll of toilet paper and built a big cozy bed in between my Billabong t-shirts. Or how I was putting their t-shirt/toilet paper nest into a trash bag when I saw a flash of grey fur wiggling in between the fabric. I don’t really know how many mice were inside that nest, but I sure didn’t want one to make the great escape inside my car while we were going to the dumpster. So J was a good husband and held it out the window for five miles.
So to J I am thankful. And also to snakes. Big grey rat snakes. Won’t you please come back and visit soon Mr. Sneaky Snake? You could make a feast of all the peanut-and-Billabong-engorged mice that have taken up residence inside that cabin.
Oh and did I mention that our home computer caught a virus too? Yeah. I had some kind of nice spamware/ malware program taking over my machine so I wasn’t even able to post this entry until today. But don’t worry. J got it all cleaned up for me, so again, I appreciate him. Thank goodness for techie husbands.
Like I said. I’m trying to put a positive spin on it all. Kinda like Lady Gaga says, “Gonna be ok. Gotta doo doo? Just dance.”
And I’m hoping that my vermin and plague days are over for a while.
Now if I can just avoid that swine flu.