Did you know it’s almost been ONE YEAR since the Oversharing: I Ain’t Scarrred series debuted? That’s right, pals. We have collectively embarrassed ourselves with tales of our stray chin hairs, jiggly bellies, sex bloopers, and too many stories from atop the porcelain throne to count.
And it has all been remarkable.
While some believe oversharing is unnecessary, using words like “inappropriate” and “no boundaries” to describe it, I maintain that there is a sense of unity and solidarity found in laughter and in sharing a piece of our hearts. So, c’mon! If you haven’t already, Overshare with us, mmmkay? Newbie blogger The Mean Mama is taking the leap today; join her by submitting your story HERE!
Turns out peeing alone is totally overrated.
There I sat on my toilet, in my bathroom, which is tucked away in my room, which happens to be at the very back of the house.
It was suppose to be a quick pee as my toddler was running loose with a bean burrito that he always eats from both ends and my baby was babbling in his high chair. The older kids were scattered at all corners of the home, except of course, my corner of the house.
It wasn’t a quick pee. It was a surprise poop. And I am not one to prevent a poop that is willing to happen on its own. 5 kids may make it easy to pee, but seems to have had the opposite affect on poo, so its happening, but slowly.
I hear the babbling turning to squawking. Normally I am okay with a ticked off baby, if I know they are safe, but like I said, he is in his high chair and learning to crawl out of it. I am pressed for time and notice I am out of toilet paper.
Have I mentioned my hubby was sleeping soundly on the other side of the door, it wasn’t a nap, he is nocturnal?
I scan the room for anything wipe-able. No flush-ables, No baby wipes, No randomly scattered napkins or tissues, Not even a slightly used snot rag in the trash (hey, desperate times).
If it was the simple quick pee I’d just use panty liner or even a towel, but this was not a pee.
I finally hobbled to the bedroom door, trying to keep the drippage over my undies and not on the floor and shouted a desperate plea down the hall, for anything wipe-able. Today was a good day. My most responsible child was reading just down the hall in the babies’ room. I got baby wipes on the first yell, hubby didn’t wake up, and I got to poop in relative peace. I’m gonna call this one a win.
In a former life, The Mean Mama expected perfection. 5 kids and 1 nocturnal husband later she has found that happiness is not found in perfection, but in learning and love. She is running fast, and trying to keep up. Catch up with her on Twitter, @TheMeanMama