After I wrote this post, I realized it would fit in perfectly with Arizona Mamma's "You Know You're a Mom When-sDAZE!" blog carnival! Afterall, you know you're a mom when you'll toilet dive without a second thought!
Sometimes...I amaze myself.
I think...wow...I mean, holy smokes I've come a long way (which, in turn, reassures me that there's hope for my children) from being a grossed out teenager to a full-fledged toilet diving adult!
Remember the idyllic days of teenage-hood? (Er...wait. Perhaps not so idyllic...) The days when food was placed before you, your clothes were magically laundered and folded, bills paid, appointments made? All you did was wake up, get ready and show up on time.
And, you were lucky if you did that!
Just last night I sat down to "pass water" *snicker*, alright, alright...I sat down to pee...and I noticed something.
Well, to be honest, I noticed a few things...pee on the toilet, pee on the floor, pee IN the toilet (along with a bunch of macerated toilet paper) and...floating atop the fermenting pee...a piece of styrofoam.
For the record...we live in the country. Country life = septic systems. Septic systems don't like styrofoam. Or so they say.
It was do or die. (Dramatic much?)
So, I hoisted up my big girl panties, reached in, and grabbed it.
And...I lived to tell about it!!
This is a big thing, coming from a girl who, in the prime of her teenage years, couldn't even empty out a sink drain without gagging and barfing in her mouth a little bit. Or, who couldn't mow the grass 'cuz it aggravated her allergies too much...or who promised to dust and vacuum weekly, but shirked her duties more often than not, for no good reason.
Now that I've written that all out...I'm wondering...Dad, Mom, am I even in the will at all? Perhaps my worry over the iCarly comment was all for naught...maybe my name had already been blackened out with a Sharpie years before when my parents had slapped their foreheads and shook their heads at me one too many times.
Gosh. I'm sorry mom and dad! But look! See?! I DID turn out alright!
In any event, my son still thinks I'm a rock star because of the time I was up to my elbow in the toilet (no lie)...grabbing blindly for the offending object that kept clogging the toilet.
Had I reached in and grabbed a turd, I'd've died. But, for some reason, I trusted myself and whatever it was that had "fallen" (and by "fallen" I mean "purposefully flushed by a hoodlum child") down there.
I tried the roto-rooter snake dealybopper thingy...but I kept getting splashed with toilet water...so, I just went for it. I pushed up my sleeves, brushed the hair from my eyes and the wiped the sweat from my brow and I just plunged my hand in.
And pulled out a stick.
And fixed our toilet.
And saved us gobs of money 'cuz we didn't hafta call a plumber.
I've come a long way baby...a looooooooong way.
If you ever find yourself in need of someone to reach into your toilets...I'm not your girl.
I draw the line at other people's potty. (Tee hee! Other People's Potty? Get it? OPP? "You down wit OPP?" "Yeah you know me!" Ahem...yeah...well, okay then! Nevermind.)