Our middle son was having his 9 year old sleepover party with 3 buddies. We'd taken the lads out for birthday dinner extravaganza (Rootbeer/pizza). We had our 3 plus the 3 birthday friends plus another friend for our older son (I see a pattern here - we are glutton for punishment in the boy department). They had pizza, rootbeer and pazookie-if you don't know what a pazookie is then you need to google it now and do yourself a favor and head to the nearest restaurant that serves them.
Really, stop reading and go do that now. They are awesome and this blog isn't going anywhere. You'll thank me (and then curse me when you step on the scale). :-)
Now for the rest of the story...
As you read on, you'll understand why I asked you to eat the pazookie first. For those of you with weak stomachs, now is a good time to phone a friend or ask the audience for help to decide if you should read further. I'm about to get gross...we are talking about boys here.
We get home and the lads run around outside, scampering, playing, jumping on the trampoline to their hearts desire (pizza, pazookie, rootbeer). And here it comes, not what you think! No, our 4 year old blasts in the house shouting that he has to go 'poo poo'. I scramble after him fearing an accident since he was in such a hurry. He's been known to 'forget' when he gets to busy in play (other kids around greatly increases his forgetfulness) and runs in the nick of time to the bathroom. He gets in there, jumps on the toilet and to my surprise, there is little surprise, a trace of what was to come in his underwear. While he's finishing his business (minus the newspaper) I holler out to my husband to please bring me some new underwear and pants. Yes, I was that nice, saying please and all. I didn't get a response so didn't think he'd heard. I holler again with the utmost of respect in my voice (I heard utmost respect in my voice, not sure what he heard). He finally comes in with underwear and pants and announces that he was busy picking up the poop trail that was left from the door to the bathroom (albeit 3 little poops, but a trail non the less). Oh, and his face...that could be on the priceless commercials.
We happily went about our way after our chuckles of the situation wore down (maybe more my chuckles)and watched some tv whilst the lads played some more (pizza, pazookie, rootbeer...jiggle, jiggle).
I'd been enduring a sinus headache (enduring, suffering, anguishing-poor me) all afternoon/evening. Around 9:15 I headed to bed after we'd given the lads their 45 minute warning. PJ's were on, tv sleep timer set, all snug on the air mattress, we were in control! I'd been in bed around 25 minutes when my husband sneaks in to announce that one of the young friends had an upset stomach...here it comes, yup, he puked. :-)
Thankfully when he'd announced his tummy intentions, my hubby had the presence of mind to wisk him down the hall to the bathroom (yeah, same one) where he released the joys of the evening...twice. Time to take our little friend home.
Phew! But not quite over. The next morning, I went to the gym just as the kids were stirring upstairs. I'd planned on picking up some donuts on the way home (umm...vomit not good enough indicator that sugar could be reduced?) but hubby, great as he is, said he was making eggs/bacon. Off to the gym to rid myself of some toxicity that could soon be replaced by bacon!
I came home to a most wonderfully cleaned kitchen and breakfast area (cleaning after cooking is not my husband's forte). As I commented on how great everything looked and was so excited to walk into a delightfully clean kitchen, he announced that the kitchen wasn't the only thing that was spotless. He'd also had to clean up puke from our dog in our oldest son's bedroom! Yes, his duty was far from done as the internal organs of 2 boys and a dog unleashed their violent attack on his presence.
A 12 hour poop and puke patrol!
Perhaps a new title is in store, Father PnP.
The joys of husbands/fathers getting slammed with what naturally is turned to us moms gave me hours of yuks and cheer!
But I'm sure my day is coming...and probably sooner than I think.
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