School is starting…finally!

It’s been a LONG time since I’ve been able to sit here and write. This has been the longest summer ever for me. The days just seemed to drag on by, slowly, scraping my skin off with teeth. I’m so done. I don’t even care that the warm weather is leaving us. I just need to pee alone, maybe have a complete and normal thought that doesn’t get interrupted by fighting or even to just run an errand without having to use a public bathroom.

My oldest is already in school.

The twins don’t start until tomorrow. They are going to be doing a full day of Kindergarten.


Will I miss them?


My husband and I were gone this past weekend. My in-laws, bless their hearts, watched our three children for us. All went very well. It was a huge relief to hear. They are sneaky and try to get away with a lot. If you aren’t prepared for the levels of sneaky they will try to obtain, you may not even realize something is wrong until it is much. Too. Late.

For example, I had to wash a load of laundry today. One small, very simple load of laundry. Mostly what was worn over the weekend. I shoved it all in the washer, so pleased to only have one load to wash, and left it alone.

When I returned to my clean laundry, I was met with an odor.

I was unprepared for the smell.

Who would be prepared for a smell when your laundry is supposedly clean?

But the odor was there. A tainted poop smell. What the hell?

I dug out all the laundry and found poop nuggets on the bottom of my washer.


Literally and figuratively.

I gagged. I cried a little. I put on rubber gloves and scraped poop off my washer base.

I then had to sift through the whole pile, shake it all for stray nuggets and figure out the source. I found two pairs of fairly clean undies. Size 6T Power Rangers.

I knew the culprit.

I called down the child in question, sat him down at my professional questioning table, turned the hot lamp on him and asked, “Did you poop your pants?”

He looked angry and said, “No! I have no poop right now?!”

After sighing and wishing for bedtime, I looked at him and asked, “I meant, did you poop your pants earlier?”

“Yes…I did. I’m sorry. It was an accident.”

I asked, “When did this happen?”

He said, “When Grandma was here at nighttime. I didn’t want to tell. I threw the poop down the shoot.”

“Next time, if there is ever a next time (please let there never be a next time!) tell someone you had an accident. I washed your poop and now everything is stinky.”

He giggled.

Great. I am now re-washing the load of laundry for obvious reasons.

So am I ready for school to start? You better believe it.

I know that these things will still happen with school in session, however, some time apart from my kids may allow me to mentally handle these situations better. Right now, my kid tolerance bucket is overflowing and it’s just past lunchtime.


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