Lucille Ball... with turds.

Yes, it is true. As duly noted on my stupid Facebook status last week, my life... well Saturday it could be summed up like this...

"My life is like an episode of I Love Lucy... with turds."

That statement is not only appropriate, but true. Micah was gone last week Friday and Saturday. We were picking him up at the airport Saturday night, and juggling coinciding birthday parties and such on Saturday along with plans we had for Friday, and lots of other things, like feeding these small children that ramble around here calling me "mom".
I was feeling pretty good about how my singlemomedness was going too. Birthday presents were already wrapped and ready to go, I made plans for Lincoln to be with my in-laws, and had a game plan for the the other two. Well, all that pride came to a screeching halt when Thursday night at 730pm, I opened the door to our basement and was immediately blasted by sauna like hot, wet air. This, this is not good. ( I know, I should have my own home improvement show with those keen problem sensing skills...)
I go down for a little looksee... the hot water tank has water pouring from it, onto the floor, which is thankfully being sump-pumped out of the basement. However, the hot water at the casa de fingerprint it is very hot. Very very hot. I mean, so hot that you can literally make hot chocolate right from the tap. (this is the voice of a lazy mama talking here, trust me, it makes the perfect cup.) Hence, the water made lots of humidity and wetness everywhere. So, after turning off the hot water, and getting a plumber lined up to come fix it the next day, that fun time is resolved.

I am still on my A game with single mommyhood. I can handle this. What I cannot handle is a cold shower. So, when the plumber finished at 4:35 pm, I realized I was not going to make my 5pm drop off at the inlaws. It is ok, I can make it there by 6pm, including drive time. I jumped in the now warm shower, and prayed that new tank was working its little $725 heart out.

Well, I made it to the inlaws at 6:15, and to my friends house by 6:55pm. As I walked in, and saw people look at me a little funny, I realized... I got out of the shower, threw some gel in my hair and just ran my fingers through it. I was a hot mess of red curls. Thank you Lord for hair clips and baseball caps with bling! My friend was a real gem too, she had dinner waiting for me, and fed Alden so I could eat her yummy meal. Single mommies need a hand and I was not stupid enough to say no.

Fast Forward to Saturday. I have Emerson and Alden playing, fed, etc. I decide it is time for Alden to take a bath, and get him all ready. Be forewarned... turdage talk is coming...

Alden is in the tub playing. He starts to call me and says something like "Mama, pootub tubbypoo igo igo. potty... potty... pootubpottytub." This is roughly translated, "Dear Mom, I just laid three cute little turds in the tub with me and if you don't get in here soon, I will, I repeat, I will pick them up."
So I hurry in the bathroom, and see that, yes indeed... in addition to the cute primary colored bath toys I have lovingly purchased for bathing children's entertainment, there are three little brown "submarines" now charting the waters.
DISGUSTING, that is all there is to it. I stand Alden up, grab the few toys that were in the water and promptly chuck them in the trash. Yeah, I said, it... I threw them out. No amount of bleach water can make them whole again folks. I go to drain the water and as I do I realize... there are two very real danger potentials occurring simultaneously.

Danger #1 A Brownie is now making water draining a slow process as it hovers over the drain holes.

Danger #2 Alden is trying to pick back up his own Brownie Fleet.

"ACK" I scream! I grab some toilet paper and without thinking, reach in to keep my little Alden from touching his own dookey. Any mother would do this, however, a smart mother would have thought to grab some other form of paper product... preferably not one designed to oh, I don't know... DISINTEGRATE IN WATER! Oh yes, you have the correct picture in your mind. I am now left clutching a little Alden dookey in my hands whilst the toilet paper just falls apart, leaving nothing between my skin, and said dookey. The gagging that came from within is something only a fellow dookey grabber can ever fully understand.
So... we get the dookey cleaned out of the tub. I stand Alden on the side, disinfect the tub, and turn on the shower. Yes, he will be showering now, because no matter that I disinfected the tub, I cannot let him sit in it again. As we begin showering him, I decide to flush all that mess that I lovingly took out of the tub and threw in the toilet.

I flush it and of course... you know what happened don't you. Come on... say it out loud with me...

The toilet overflowed.

I was beyond thrilled to see those turds yet again. I run and grab the plunger, and try, and try, and try... yet still manage to get nasty water on me and my pajamas. Oh,and the toilet? Its still overflowing... I swear I think I heard it snicker at me. Alden found all of this commotion, and YES that is an intended pun, quite hilarious.
I finally got the toilet under control, wash my hands, then go about washing Alden. Now I am a firm believer in proper booty cleaning. So, I lather up my hands, and realize, oh, no wash cloth... ok, I am a real mom, I just stick my hand back there in that cute little booty crack. I am his mama, he is two, I am still allowed to clean his booty crack with my bare hands...

It is not until my hand is in full booty crackage that I realize... that cute booty crack, it has never been properly cleaned up from the previous submarine launch...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH



I think Lucy would have called Ethel.
I just bleached my hands along with the tub and called it a day.
Sometimes, you just have to admit defeat, have a glass of wine, and call it a day...