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How I Stopped Laundry From Controlling My Life

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That’s it! I quit! HOW IN THE HELL IS THERE SO MUCH LAUNDRY IN MY HOUSE? There are four of us total. For shits sake, I hardly ever change my clothes (Gross, I know.) I can wear the same pair of yoga pants for 3 days straight. So how in the hell are these three baskets full of dirty clothes? How does every room in the house have piles of clothes that my baby can get lost in?

I swear, I wash and I wash and I wash. I feel like all I do all day, every day is wash, dry, sometimes fold, and repeat. (Don’t even mention ironing, if you ask me to iron your clothes I’ll punch you in the face.)

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I am no good at lying, and as a result you’ve probably noticed by now I hate cleaning. Even if I did enjoy it, I am not very good at any of it. I don’t pretreat stains. Hell, I don’t even check pockets. I once washed and dried crayons. As a result it was a massive disaster ruining all sorts of clothes. One time I accidentally washed the remote control because I didn’t shake out the blanket. Hubby wasn’t very happy about that one.

People must break into my house while I’m sleeping, wear my families clothes, then take them off and throw them on the floor. That has to be it. Neither of my kids can dress/undress themselves so how is this happening?

Folding, don’t even get me started on folding. Who has time for this?! It seems like I really do try. I set the laundry basket out, separate a few items, walk away, forget what I was doing, get back to it the next day.

My husband has to have clean, wrinkle-free clothes for work, so I actually do try to put a little effort into his work clothes. Again, I usually fail epically but it’s the thought that counts right?

Therefore I have decided to just say “suck it” to the laundry. I’m not doing it anymore. So I’ll wash and try to remember to dry in the same day. I think that’s probably good enough. I’ll throw the clean clothes onto my son’s bed because he doesn’t sleep on it. We can dig through and find what we need. I’ll use that time I’m saving to have a little “me time” which includes wine and Steve Harvey. I really think I deserve it.

Does anyone else have this problem? Are you on top of your laundry or does it rule your house?

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Why I Sleep With My Children

Every night, in my bed, is an adventure.

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My husband and I co sleep with our two children, ages two years old and six months. (We practice safe co sleeping, don’t worry.) My son still likes to sleep on my face, which means his feet are up his daddy’s nose all night. My husband probably wishes our kids would sleep in their own beds. Then there is my daughter who likes to snuggle into me. I don’t mind, but I can’t move all night, and I usually wake up with a sore back.

The other night I was laying in bed, covered in kids, and I was irritated. I was so tired, my back hurt, I just wanted to roll over and get comfy. Then something hit me. A wave of calmness and love washed over me.. I felt so guilty for being irritated with my kids. I had tears in my eyes, thinking about how lucky I was to have my beautiful babies in bed with me. So I grabbed my son’s and my daughter’s hands and held them tight. Then I examined each of their beautiful faces, while I prayed and gave thanks for my sweet kids.

I don’t know what came over me but I needed it. I was feeling a bit “at the end of my rope,” with the lack of sleep and the lack of me time. Then I was reminded of how fast my kids are growing up. Some day, they won’t want to sleep with mommy or hold my hand. Just the thought of that absolutely breaks my heart.

So for now, I will let them sleep with me. Someday they will be grown and it will just be me and my husband in our big lonely bed. I will just plan to catch up on all of my sleep then. On the other hand, I’ll probably just stay up all night wondering if they are okay or what they are doing.

Have you read the book, “Love You Forever” by Robert Munsch? I am the lady from that book. Every time I read it, I cry like a little baby. The problem is I will probably sneak into my kids’ houses at night and crawl in bed with them. Their spouses won’t mind, right? They better not. I let my kids sleep with me for their entire childhood, so the least they could do is let me sleep with them when they are grown! Is that creepy? Ya, I don’t care.

Snuggling them at night might be exhausting but it’s okay. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I would rather go to bed in a full bed with a full heart, than in an empty bed with an empty heart.

Does anyone else ever feel like this? I know not everyone co-sleeps, but have you ever had a moment where you are overwhelmed with love? Where you suddenly feel guilty for being upset with your child? Tell me in the comments, I would love to hear your stories!

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How To Upset A Toddler

Get Out Of My House!

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My two year old son is usually a complete sweetheart. For the most part, he loves everyone and is very social. This is something I am very proud of because that is the complete opposite of what I am.

A few weeks ago, we had a new TV service come in to hook up a new system. This is a nightmare for me when my husband is at work. I hate having people I don’t know in my house because it makes me feel extremely awkward and uncomfortable.

Apparently, the installation was going to take anywhere between two to four hours. I thought I was going to die. I couldn’t get anything done, because I needed to stay close by the workers. There was no showering, no cleaning, no cooking, no leaving my kids unattended for even a second. It was exhausting.

To make things worse, while the workers were waiting for things to load, they wanted to talk to me. Son of a B, I HATE talking to people when I am uncomfortable, I don’t want to be rude, but can’t you just do your job and leave? I know it makes me sound like a horrible person. I noticed that the worker’s need to make conversation was upsetting my son. It seemed having two grown strange men in our house, going back and forth between the bedrooms, living rooms, and outside finally started to make him uncomfortable as well.

My son started to say things to me like, “Mommy, they go home now?” Yes, son, Mommy has been praying for the last hour that “they go home now”. One of the workers started to talk about my sons toys. He looked into my son’s bedroom (which was not a part of the hook up) and asked, “is that a magic tracks?” I replied, “yes,” trying to end the conversation and hint that I wasn’t really okay with him looking into the bedroom. This about sent my son through the roof. I’ve never seen him act like he did. He looked at me and said, “That’s MY magic tracks!” Then he stood up on the couch and puffed out his chest and put his arms on his hips in the most manly little way. He yelled, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!

I thought I was going to pee my pants! I was laughing so hard. Okay, I actually did pee my pants but that’s another story. The workers just looked at me in shock, I suppose they didn’t know how to react. They were probably waiting for me to say, that’s not nice, or something of the sort. I did not say anything to him because I completely agreed with him. He just had the balls to say it and I didn’t!

I know the poor TV guys were just doing their jobs. It’s not their fault that I don’t like strangers in my house. They probably learned a little lesson about peeking into bedrooms and talking about toys though! Therefore the next time strange men need to come into my house to fix something, I’d like to make sure that my husband is home for our sake and for the sake of the workers!

Has your child ever done something like this? How did you react?

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How To Add Breast Milk To Baby Food Without Pumping

Yes, I Just Milked Myself.

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My five month old daughter has recently started on solid foods. So far she has tried rice, oatmeal, and avocados. I like to make my own baby food at home (I know, shocker right!?) and in making my own baby food I mix everything with breast milk.

I will usually pump breast milk to freeze and then pump some more to use to make baby food. Since my daughter is just starting out I really haven’t pumped much to make baby food. Pumping is so exhausting to me and it is extremely time consuming! So if I don’t have to do it, I won’t.

Since I haven’t been pumping to make food, I have two choices. Defrost something I have in the freezer, which I hate to do because I have a fear I will someday need all of that, or I can just milk myself! I obviously go with number two, because why not?

The only problem with milking yourself (hand expressing if you need a more proper term) is it’s extremely embarrassing if someone walks in on you standing in your kitchen with your shirt up and boob in hand. I’ve started just telling my husband before I do it. He’s got to think I’m the laziest or the craziest woman in the world. Another problem is if your ‘let down’ starts you have to run and grab baby and hope she is hungry! You don’t want to get a clogged duct!

It’s just so easy to do it my lazy way! I put some avocados in a bowl mash them up good, then pull out my milk makers and squeeze until I have enough liquid gold in the bowl to make the perfect consistency for her baby food! Bam! No 20 minute pumping session, no defrosting what you have stored.

A little advice if you are going to try this. Make sure no one is going to walk into the kitchen and see you squirting milk everywhere. If you have guests, or you are afraid your husband will see and make fun of you then quickly run to your bedroom and do some squeezing. (Seriously it usually takes me one minute to get enough milk!)

The more I write this, the more I actually think I might be losing it. Is it normal to whip out a boobie to squeeze out some breast milk?  Am I too comfortable?

Have you ever done anything like this? What all do you use your breast milk for?

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Yes, I Hear You!

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My two year old son has this constant need for everyone to acknowledge everything he says. I’m mean every single thing. He even needs me to acknowledge him when he’s talking in his sleep!

The problem is, I am very good at tuning out all unnecessary noise. So if I do not respond to him right away he repeats himself over and over again. I’m serious, for example:

Mom, Bot has a forehead.

Mamma, Bot has a forehead.

MOM BOT HAS A FOREHEAD!

Mommy bot has a forehead!!!!!!!!!

MOMMY!!

BOT HAS A FOREHEAD!

YES, SON! For the love of God, yes, Bot has a freaking forehead!

Might I add, this conversation was at 11pm and why I needed to know that Bot from Team Umizoomi has a forehead, I’ll never know.

He will repeat himself 100 times if he has too. I’ve done a few experiments where I purposely don’t answer him, just to see how many times he will repeat himself. He doesn’t give up. He keeps going until I acknowledge him. I’m convinced he’d say the same thing for an hour straight. Or possibly until my eyes bulge out of my head and scare the crap out of him.

I’m pretty sure this phase is going to make my brain explode. I just don’t feel the need to constantly reply to every single thing he says. I mean he’s two years old, and he NEVER stops talking. It’s like that scene from the show family guy.

Stewie:  “Mom, Mom, Mom, Mama, Mommy, Mom, Mama, Mommy, Mama, Mom, MOM, MOMMY.”

Lois:  “WHAT!?!”

That is my life, 24 hours a day. Even my husband mentioned, you should write about him constantly needed to be answered. As I’m writing this he is saying, “Mommy, this is Batman? It’s Batman. Mommy, it’s batman. Mommy, Batman. Batman. Mommy, it’s Batman.”

YES, IT’S BATMAN! Now I want to grab Batman and rip his head off and stick his body in the oven and torture him so I never have to see him again! Holy hell, YES I HEAR YOU!!!

Don’t get me wrong, I love having conversations with my son. He really is intelligent and hilarious.  When he is saying something meaningful, I always reply and if he needs help, I reply. But if I happen to be on the phone and he wants to tell me that his water is so yummy, do I really need to reply? If you ask him the answer is yes.

Does your child do something similar? As a result does it make your eyes pop out of your head too?

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Motherhood is Messy

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Being a mother is the greatest job in the world. It is also one of the messiest. It starts from the moment that tiny, little baby is pulled from your body. The doctor holds the baby up for you to see. You are overwhelmed with a sense of love and all of the sudden there is pee squirting you in the face.

There is a joke in my family that the first time your baby pees on you it means that you are being initiated into parenthood. Little do you know that getting peed on once will turn into getting peed on at least once a day for the next 18 years. (I’m assuming- because my son is two and potty trained and he still somehow manages to get pee on me.) It’s not only pee, babies poop A LOT. Not cute, little poops that you imagine would come from a tiny, little angel. They are mustard yellow poops that spray out like a machine gun and stain your walls.

Besides being covered in poop, pee, and boogers, you will probably be covered in some of your child’s food. Whether it be breast milk from your leaking tatas or disgusting diarrhea green, pureed peas, it will somehow end up on your shirt, in your hair, in your shoes, or up your nose. Therefor, you will constantly be walking around smelling like some sort of old food.

Now aside from things that your child can cover you in, let’s talk about how messy your child can make your house. I mean holy hell, have you seen a toddler’s bedroom? Toys cover the ground forming a giant stuffed animal mountain that could probably protect you from a nuclear blast. Spilled bags of cheerios are covering the floor just inviting the mice to come have a sleep over, and there is a boobie trap of Legos blocking you from entering the stuffed animal bunker.

 

Somehow you have to do eight loads of laundry a day, just to be able to cross your living room. Doing the dishes twice a day is nowhere near enough. So they cover the counters, the tables, the floors, for some god-forsaken reason there are bowls behind the couch. Seriously though, why?

At the end of the day, you finally have the choice to go to sleep or wash that disgusting baby food off yourself and clean up the house. Naturally you choose sleep. Who cares if it’s a dirty house? Who cares if you smell like you were rolling in garbage? I don’t care. I won’t judge you.

In conclusion, yes, Motherhood is messy, but it’s worth it.

Is your house a mess? Or are you a magical creature who can constantly keep her home clean? Tell me in the comments!

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Yep, I Just Peed

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After birthing to two massive children, I don’t exactly have the best bladder control. My first child was over nine pounds and my second was right at nine pounds. They scarred me for life. You don’t recover from something like that. (Although I hear there are a few surgical options out there but that’s a discussion for another day.)

I have recently come down with the nasty cold that is going around. Now on top of the runny nose, sneezing, cough, sore throat, swollen eyes, and headaches this miserable cold has brought me, I have to remember to cross my legs constantly. Not cross my legs in a funny way like “you better cross those legs before you get pregnant again.”  But, cross my legs as in, I’m about to sneeze and if I don’t cross my legs the floodgates will open and soak this couch I’m sitting on.

I have a hard enough time holding in my pee when I’m not sick. I mean, I go for a walk and 10 minutes in I realize I have to pee and the rest of the way home I’m waddling like a duck on crack because my pants are soaked. It’s a problem I just can’t hold it like I used to before babies.

The hardest part is standing up and having to sneeze or cough. How do I casually cross my legs and try to hold my pee in without anyone noticing? I guess I’d rather them notice me crossing my legs than me soaking my pants. Maybe I should invest in some sort of adult diapers? I’m not even 30 years old yet and I need to worry about peeing my pants. I need to think about wearing an ultra thick extra long maxi pad when I’m not even on my period. What the hell is this!?

Here is my advice, ladies. Just kidding I have none. I don’t know what to do. I just know it’s a problem and it sucks. Every time I sneeze I pee a little. Sometimes I pee a lot. That is just the way it is, I guess. Yet another glorious part of being woman!

Is this a problem for all of you mama’s out there? Or am I a weirdo that should go to the doctor because I have a problem?? Let me know in the comments!

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Chores, How young is too young?

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I am CONSTANTLY fighting with my two year old about cleaning his room. This is the one chore he will fight me to the death on. He ALWAYS wins. Why? Because he’s a little shit, and I am weak. His favorite game is to pull out every toy and book he can find and then throw them on the floor or in the crib. When I ask him to put the books away, he usually responds with, “No, how ‘bout you do it, Mommy.”

WTF? How am I taking orders from a two year old?? I always give in because I’m tired of walking into his room, stepping on a Lego and falling face first into a bowl of two day old cereal. Every now and then, he obliges and will half-ass clean up. (I can’t really blame him on that part, I half-ass clean everything.) It makes me so proud and so happy and I really try to show him that. I just wish it would happen more often.

He LOVES to help me with laundry. He likes to take the clothes out of the washer and put them into the dryer and then take them out of the dryer and into the basket. It makes the process about 100 times longer, but what the heck, he wants to help so I let him! He also likes to help unload the dishwasher. This one is a little trickier because I have to get anything sharp and breakable away from him as soon as possible. He will pick up anything he can reach and hand it to me to put away. Again, it makes doing the dishes about 100 times longer, but it’s worth it.

Did I mention that my son is a technological genius? He can pick up any phone/tablet and navigate to YouTube and watch his “Daddy Finger” videos. He can also get to any game and figure out how to play it within minutes. If my son can pick up an electronic that I’ve had for years, (and haven’t figured out how to use) and learn to use it in 5 minutes or less, he can clean his damn room. A few months after turning two, my sweet little boy turned into a bossy terrible two year old. I think I let him get away with too much. No more, it stops here.

When he wakes up from his nap, he is marching straight into his room and picking up all of his toys. Then he will grab a mop and get to work in the kitchen. No more free rides around here. He is two years old. He needs to learn that life is hard. It’s time learn that there are no freebies in life. You want that PAW Patrol yogurt for a snack, get to cleanin’ son. I’m not entirely sure what other cleaning I can have him do. But this has to teach him some responsibility right?

What types of chores do your children do and at what ages did they start? Is two too young? Am I going to be turned in for being a child slave laborer?

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You Can’t Pour From An Empty Cup

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Have you ever heard the saying, ‘You can’t pour from an empty cup?’ I’m here to tell you that I think that is BS. If you are a mother, you can pour from an empty cup. You HAVE to pour from an empty cup because sometimes you ARE an empty cup!

I’ve recently put this to the test. My five month old daughter was hospitalized for RSV. It was the most stressful week of my life. I got a total of 5 hours of sleep in 3 days. (Not an exaggeration.) I hardly ate or drank anything the entire time we were in the hospital because I was there by myself most of the time. I handled almost everything alone. My cup was empty, I was empty. But somehow, I kept pouring. Every little thing my daughter needed I was there. I was alert. Delirious, but alert. I never let her see how tired and beat down I was.

As I sat there in the hospital bed with my baby girl, covered in her vomit and mucus, all I could think was how I would do anything in the world to keep her safe. How even though, I feel I have nothing to give, I would still give everything I could to her. My body was so tired from no sleep, and sharing a hospital bed with my baby, but if she wanted to be held, I held her. If she wanted to nurse, I nursed her. If she wanted to play, I played with her. I have no idea how I was able to do this. No idea how I didn’t just pass out on the floor and die. I really thought I was going too.

This is why moms are superheroes. We defy the odds. We go against the laws of nature. If it comes down to it, we don’t need sleep. Moms don’t need to eat. We don’t need to shower. A mother will do WHATEVER it takes to keep our little ones safe. Even if that means giving more than we have to give.

I know, I know, when given the opportunity we need to take care of ourselves. But in a situation like this, there was no taking care of myself, and somehow I still was able to give. I hit rock bottom, then kept digging. Because I am a mom. I’ll never stop. I’ll never quit. I will drink a cup of nasty hospital coffee and force myself to squeeze a drop of something into my “cup”.

When God created women he put something in our hearts that activates when we become a mother. Something that kicks in when our children need us. He created us to be able to give when we have nothing. I can’t tell you how it works. I can’t give you advice on how to keep on giving. It’s just something inside of us that happens. Most of all it happens when you love someone more than you love yourself.

This is why I believe you CAN pour from an empty cup.

Have you ever been in a situation like this? Have you ever felt like an empty cup? Let me know in the comments!

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What The F!

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In my house, I like to think that we really try to not curse around our children. We fail epically but at least we “try” right?

My two year old son is like a mocking bird. He acts like he’s not listening but he is. You will say something, and then a few hours later he is repeating exactly what you said. Maybe this is a trait that will help him later in life, who knows. For now, it’s bad because every time you slip he is listening, just waiting for his opportunity to make you feel like a bad parent.

One day, my sister-in-law and I were sitting in the living room while my son was playing on my phone. ( I know, another great parenting moment.)  We were in the middle of a very serious conversation, I’m sure, when my dog decides she needs to go outside. My sister-in-law hops up and opens the door, my pain in the butt dog runs outside then runs right back inside. She really is obnoxious, I mean it takes a lot of energy to stand up and let a dog outside right?

We continue our conversation and about two minutes later my dog is at the door barking again, wanting to go outside. My SIL jumps up and yells, “Rugar, what the F!” She really did just say F.

Then my son, who hasn’t said a word in half an hour, even when we were talking to him looks up and yells, “Rugar, What the F*&@!!”  He DID NOT just say F!

I turned away from my son laughing so hard that I almost peed my pants. (yes, another great parenting moment.) We really did try to hide our laughter, but I just couldn’t. After several minutes, I was able to compose myself and explain to him that the F word is a bad word.

It’s then when you really feel like a great mom. Where did he hear that? Do I really say that word around him often? I really try not too! He probably heard it from someone else. I’ll go with that because It makes me feel better about myself. Also, it’s extremely embarrassing. What if we were at church? What if we were at play group? What would other moms think of me?! Thankfully it was my sister in law who was there, who wasn’t judging me…out loud anyway.

Has this ever happened to you? Have you ever slipped and your child repeated it at the worst time? Tell me in the comments!

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Valentine’s Day After Having Kids









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Valentine’s Day with my husband used to be fun. We used to live in the big city, and we would always go to our favorite seafood restaurant.  (We were never overly romantic, getting messy with crab legs was romantic enough for us.) We would fill our bellies with delicious crab legs and giant mixed drinks that make it hard to walk once you’ve finished. Afterwards, my husband would usually surprise me with a new piece of jewelry, and we would go wherever the night took us.

Now we live in a tiny town where no one offers decent crab legs. We also have two children. For some reason now we act about 15 years older than we really are. I’m not kidding. We watch Family Feud every night. My husband and I go on a date maybe once every two or three months. Yes, I know, wife of the year award should go to me. It’s so hard to find the time or energy to go anywhere together.

Needless to say, the last several Valentine’s days have been uneventful. We made our own tradition of having crab legs at home. (My husband is an amazing seafood cook, thank the good Lord.) I haven’t been able to have a drink with liquor in it in over three years, and if I had one now I’d probably just end up pregnant again. So I usually get a nice water bottle, or if I’m feeling crazy a cup of lemonade. We top the night off with watching cartoons in bed, me sneaking chocolate, and wondering where my newest diamond is? Just kidding, sort of.

Although, I may long for the days of sipping ice-cold blended alcohol while taking pictures to show off my newest diamond earrings, having Valentine’s dinner at home with my kids is kind of fun. It’s our new tradition. It may not be romantic at all.  We may not get any alone time,  but it’s fun. It’s ours.

Let’s be real, as long as my husband brings me chocolate I don’t really care what we do for Valentine’s day. I am a chocoholic and I could sit on the sofa shoving my face full of delicious boxed chocolates watching Family Feud all night. You know what, that is exactly what I want to do after our “romantic” Valentine’s dinner. Just leave me alone with chocolate and Steve Harvey and I’ll be the happiest woman in the world.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

What do you do for Valentine’s day? Go on a romantic date? Involve your kids? Let me know in the comments!

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What NOT To Do When You Are Pregnant

The Day I Shat Myself While Pregnant

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I was about 25 weeks pregnant when one of the most embarrassing things EVER happened to me.  I was on a road trip with my mom and my son who was one at the time. We were out of town to soak up some sun and visit family. After a few days, we finally decided to head back home. We stuck with tradition and ate at our favorite restaurant. My mom and I consider ourselves to be chicken wing connoisseurs. The spicier the wing, the better.  If it doesn’t make your throat bleed then we are not interested.

That was mistake number one.

We ate our delicious chicken wings and decided to gas up and start our three hour journey home. As usual we always gas up at the very last gas station on the way out of town, which was about a 30 minute drive from the restaurant. We hopped in the car and headed out.

That was mistake number two.
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Only a few minutes into our drive, I began to feel the burn. My stomach started to gurgle and growl so loud the people in the car next to us heard. Oh man, I had to poo. I had this problem in my second pregnancy where I could hardly hold my bladder or bowels. I’m guessing it was from pushing out baby #1 who 9+ lbs. and then baby #2 was on track to be that big as well. (Yes, I know. Please hold your applause until the end of the story.)

Mistake number three was thinking I could hold it until we got to the gas station.

I started driving faster, like a bat out of hell. Sweat was covering my entire body. I was clenching like I’ve never clenched before. My poor butt cheeks were so sore from squeezing as tight as they could. Finally we arrive at the gas station. I waddled as fast as I could into the bathroom, squeezing my butt cheeks together all the way. I made it inside and felt myself starting to slip. Then the worst thing that could possibly happen did. There was a line. Tears started to run down my face.  I couldn’t hold it anymore. My body betrayed me and it happened.

I shat myself.

I didn’t let myself show it, I just let it happen. And happen it did. Thank God no one noticed. Finally, it was my turn. I walked backwards into the stall so no one could see my butt. (Because that wasn’t obvious.) I pull down my pants and it’s a mess, a huge freaking mess. I seriously just shat my pants.

In an attempt to hide the awful noises, I kept flushing as the devil squeezed his ugly way out of my poor bottom. I took my poo-filled pants and chonies off and started to try and clean myself up.

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Thank the good Lord that I am obsessed and ALWAYS have my phone on me. I text my mom what happened and asked her to bring me a clean pair of pants and a bag, and to try to be discrete. She finally responded after what seemed like an eternity.  I kept cleaning myself up and pushing out the devil juice.

By that time there was an employee in the bathroom cleaning. She had cleaned everything else, and I could tell by watching her feet she was waiting on me. After a few minutes, she says, “are you ok in there?” I responded, “yes, sorry.” So extremely mortified I started to cry. MOM WHERE ARE YOU??

Finally mom arrives and delivers the goods. I know she wanted to make fun of me, but could tell that in my emotionally unstable pregnant state that wouldn’t be a good idea. I bag up my poopie pants, clean up my mess, and leave.

So here’s my advice. Don’t eat spicy food when you are pregnant and about to go on a road trip. That probably should have been a no brainer, but chicken wings ruled my pregnant life. I was so mortified, and I can’t believe I am sharing this story. I hope there is someone else out there who has had something just as horrifying happen to them.

Tell me your pregnancy horror stories!

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P.S. Have you seen Moana?! It’s amazing! If not, check it out here!