Monday, January 16, 2012

The grossness that is my life.

I'm sorry I've been remiss the last couple of days with my blogs.  I've been too busy being grossed out here at the Potts' Family abode. 

You know, normally it takes a lot to disgust me and quite frankly, I can be fairly repulsive myself.  I hate to chase away the few remaining civilized friends I have left but it's true, I'm nasty.  However; as of late, my husband, boys, and pets have outdone themselves in the gross-out category.  All I can say to this is, "Out of my way, I need to hurl!"

In my younger days, I worked as an aide in a nursing home.  I thought this had prepared me for all sorts of horrific sites, smells, and experiences.  Honestly there were days where I would be working with a patient, God bless them, and through no fault of their own, my stomach could sometimes not endure the moment at hand.  After months of trial and error, I realized that unless I wanted to work an entire day without smelling of urine, feces, or vomit, I would need to bring a change of clothes with me.  So you see, I felt fairly confident that this early training had prepared me for a family of guys and pets.  Not so.

Where do I start?  I guess the best place would be a warning: do not read any further if you have a weak stomach for gruesome detail.  In fact, as I sit here typing and sipping my coffee, I'm wondering what even caused me to recall this awful memory.  Sometimes nightmares haunt on their own terms.  I would share some of the recent ones but they're just too fresh.  I still need recovery time.

Shortly after Austynn was placed in our home, his older brother did his best to impress him with all things gross including just how badly he could plug a toilet.  I was impressed for Pete's sake.  For 30 minutes I plunged, cursed (under my breath of course), and gagged.  With every choke, William giggled with glee.  My nine year old made such a stink that he was making his mama sick.    

I needed a break. It was a beautiful Autumn day in Southern California.  I decided to take the boys and the dog to the park and get some fresh air.  I'd deal with the bathroom when I got home.  We were gone about an hour, maybe two. 

When I opened the front door, the house attacked me with the smell of, well...need I say more?  It was horrifying.  Plus, as I stood downstairs, trying to hold the vomit down in my throat, I heard the unmistakable sound of dripping.  It was coming from the kitchen.  Brown, nastiness (can I call it water?) was dripping through the kitchen vent.  I grabbed an empty, plastic Jack-o'-Lantern (it was almost Halloween), to catch the continuing sewage, wiped up the mess on the floor so my dog didn't find it appealing, and ran upstairs to see what was going on.

It appeared that when I was plunging, the water tank on the toilet started running.  For two hours or so, all the nastiness that was in the bowl came up and overflowed onto the bathroom floor and under the hall carpet.  Breezy was not a happy camper.  I handled it as efficiently as I could with two ADHD, autistic children chattering in the background and an overly affectionate dog sniffing my butt; however, when William announced how proud he was at his contribution, that's when Monster Mama came out to play.  At this point, I was not cleaning up nasty poop water by myself.  After all, the "smeller's the feller". 

Yes, William was not pleased to assist his mother in the clean-up.  He shared this loudly as I listened patiently and instructed him how to use the disinfectant.  While we were in the midst of this project, the humor of the situation kicked in.  Austynn, in his little six year old innocence, whom William had been trying to impress that he plugged the toilet to begin with, stood gravely pale in the doorway behind us.  He too looked sickened by the situation and said without hesitation...

"Oh William, I would not be proud of this!"


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