The New Toilet Seat

Our guest bath toilet seat went kaput.  So we went searching for a new one and found quite by accident the “IntelliSeat” at Costco.  We transferred the master bath’s old seat onto the guest toilet and the new Intelliseat was installed onto the master potty.  My sweet hubby told me when we made our purchase that this should be quite entertaining.  Little did I know, I was going to be the star of the show.

The box says this thing is amazing and comes with its own remote control.  Some of the features are: a heated seat with an adjustable temperature control; temperature controlled final air drying cycle; and  three wash buttons with water temperature and pressure control (We will speak further about pressure control later).

The washing buttons are divided into ladies and men.  The ladies have a front and backside wash button.  While the gentlemen only have a backside washing button.  The men in my family explained to me, in extensive details why they would never even remotely consider using the lady’s frontside wash button.

Being the adventurous type with A.D.D., I quickly reviewed the operating instructions and decided this thing was simple and safe to operate.  So I volunteered to be the guinea pig.   Without any hesitation, I dropped my pants.  Naturally the entire family, including the dogs had to be present at the “inaugural sitting”.   As the seat warmed nicely, I was thinking this was a good investment.  Next, I tried the warm air blower.  I thought this is even nicer than the seat warming feature.  Finally I decided to explore the washing features.

First, let me just say you should read ALL the instructions when using this type of device.  I apparently missed the part about adjusting the water PRESSURE!  I luckily pressed the lady’s backside washing option and not the frontside.   To say I was taken by surprise is an understatement.  The screaming I concocted, originated from a primal space we are never suppose to visit.

My first thought was to jump up and run.  About the time I was seriously considering this option, my brain fired back that  if I “HOP up” my entire family would be drown right there in a few seconds.   Then I noticed that even if I had wanted to run, I wouldn’t have been able to get over the bodies of my hollowing family.  They were hopelessly rolling on the floor, their sides hurting from delirious laughter.  Finally, DESPERATELY,  I found the STOP button and slammed the entire force of my being on to it.

After a few minutes of recuperative breathing and the contemplation of a huge glass of wine, I was ready to CAREFULLY explore the final features of the new potty seat.  This time, I put the water pressure at the LOWEST possible setting and pressed the Ladies frontside wash and waited like a man on death row.

I was pleasantly surprised this time.   A nice gentle soothing wash of my lady area was quite refreshing.  I then noticed the oscillation button and ventured into one of the last features.  Again, I experienced an enjoyable function.  This dear readers is when I should have STOPPED.  But no, I’m the “Curious George” type.

As I’m about to relinquish my throne to the next family member, I notice the man’s backside wash.  I think to myself “How much different can a lady’s backside be from a man’s backside.”  In the spirit of true investigative reporting, I decide to find out.  O.M.G.  I may have killed every curious cell (forget bone) in my body.

Let me try an explain this final potty experience.  When I pressed the man button, I forgot the pressure button (Welcome to the A.D.D. Brain) fortunately it was only set to the middle THRUST setting, otherwise someone would have had to call the EMT’s (That’s if any of my family members could have chocked out the words over their laughing fits).  Apparently some sadistic bastard thinks that men need a fire hose to wash their backsides.  The force that hit me in an opening that was clearly developed as an EXIT ONLY was SHOCKING.  I would have probably passed out if it had been set to the “Katie Bar the Door” position.

The cleaning force was so strong and efficient, that I could have immediately gone to my Gastroenterologist and had a colonoscopy performed.  No more drinking that nasty moviprep for me, from now on, I can just visit my little toilet seat.  Just a second of “Man Washing” was enough to cause a small seismic episode right here in north Texas.  Luckily my finger had been hovering over the STOP button before the MAN mode near launched me into my neighbor’s yard, right over the bodies of the now roaring people I formerly called family.

As I wobbled like a Weeble to try and gracefully extract myself and my dignity from my new adventure, both kids started yelling ME, ME, I’m next!!!   Apparently, they were living in a different dimension than the one I had  just experienced.


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Another Bad Mom Moment… and I can’t help myself

I’ll admit it.  I have a twisted streak.  I guess I inherited it from my Dad.  He was in some ways a great man that loved to laugh, was a fabulous dancer and had a uniquely quick wit.   As I was growing up, he would make an adult commentary that I wouldn’t understand and then look me in the eyes and say “When you are older, I’ll explain”.   It was our special bond.  I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to know the secrets of the ages!  I thought the sun and the moon rose and set on him.

Most people will probably think I’m a BAD mom!  But in the tradition of my Dad, I am passing on a legacy.  Here’s the story.

My son came to me and asked the difference between drippy and leaky. I told him “a shot of penicillin and Depends.”

He cocked his little head and said “Huh?” I told him I hoped he never understood this one, but “When he was old enough, I would explain.”  We eventually went to and read the proper definition of the two words.  My son then looked at me sweetly and stated that even though I had been wrong with my original answer, he still loved me.

I think he left out……and I WORRY about you!!

I’m sorry to say my Dad passed away many years ago.  He never got to experience being a grandDad.  I think he would shake his head at me, give me that wicked grin of his and nod his approval.

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Itching Manhood

My son wakes up this morning and tells me his manhood is itching to the point it is really bothering him. I tell him to hop in the bath tub and take a nice bath because it might be related to all the allergies he has. He does so. He then informs me that the bath isn’t working and he needs further assistance. We discuss Benedryl and decide that after the bath to try liquid Benedryl.

He gets out of the bath and it’s obvious he has been trying to get the itching to stop because he’s manhood is a little red. We move to Step Two… the LIQUID Benedryl. Mom didn’t read all the ingredients and just puts it on. The next thing I know this little boy is hopping around yelling “Take it OFF, Take it OFF.” I grab a wet towel and start wiping off the benedryl. He had been holding (pulling) said manhood so I could apply the Benedryl and it’s now shrunken and withered and very pitiful. I feel really bad when he looks at me very sweetly in the eyes and says “We’ll NEVER try that stuff again on THAT part of MY body!”

I then look on the label and sure enough it had 40% alcohol. POOR little guy, I really felt bad. I finally found the Benedryl CREAM, read the OTHER ingredients to insure it was “ManHood SAFE” and successfully defeated the itch.

Really, I think the alcohol from the first treatment numbed it so badly that whatever we put on after that would not have mattered. What does matter is that he still thinks I’m still a Great Mom.

Just another morning in the life of a Stay at Home Mom!

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Out of the Mouths of Babes

Most know I enjoy wine.  Then you have to realize I really appreciate an incredible wine.  Last March I attended a fabulous fundraising dinner at a very gifted local jeweler’s store.  Everything was picture perfect: there were fabulous jewels; incredible company; gourmet food; even a quartet playing classic music.  It was a fantasy night!

Did I mention the wine was fabulous.  The evening started with a nice Chardonnay and I’m not a big Chard fan, but this was really quite nice.  We next sampled a fine Merlot and then I was in trouble.  Finally, a crowning Cabernet was served.  If you ever get the chance to have “Absurd” 2005 by Realm Cellars, do not pass up the experience.  Unfortunately, I did not pass it up one too many times.

Yes friends, I know this is shocking to discover, but I was a little tipsy that night.  So much so, that I was very hung over the next morning.   Now, I was able to get the kids started for school, but wasn’t physically able to do the morning ritual of seeing them off on the bus (Dad did that) and I had to cancel a coffee get together with wonderful friends.  These mishaps that morning, plus my throbbing head and an ill feeling tummy, I thought were punishment enough for my poor choices the previous night…… BUT NO Sports Fan!

Have I mentioned that we never lie to our children.  They have always known the truth about Santa, the Easter Bunny, and even the old Tooth Fairy.  We have done this so that when it comes down to the really important discussions about sex, drugs, driving fast, etc., we can say “We have NEVER lied to you about anything!”  (Tough parenting I know.    I’ll tell you if it worked in about 15 years) …… ANYWAY

So, the children knew today that old Mom had partied pretty hard the night before and was hung over and in a bad way the next morning.   After several hours of gatorade, tylenol and any other hangover remedy I can think of I finally recover enough to start to back into my daily routine.  One such routine is checking email.  To my surprise, I receive a little jewel of email from my son’s teacher.    This is his email to me:

“I just pulled your son and two other boys out to tell them I was emailing you.  He said “she won’t check her email because she’s drunk…”     After my awkward silence he said “she went to a party last night…”  I am laughing so hard I am crying!

Luckily my son’s teacher adores me, as much as I do him!

The good news was the reason for the email was his teacher wanted to let me know that every morning he took lunch count.  The students would tell the teacher their choice for lunch.  EVERY single morning my son would say his choice followed by PLEASE.  It made his teacher so happy.   I received the good parenting pat, but I was instructed to teach my son the difference between drunk and hung over.

So that is how my weekend started.  How about yours?


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Terrifying 45 Minutes

My daughter comes in and tells me the dogs are out again and her brother is out chasing them.  This is the fourth time, so as usual she and I get in the van and start driving the neighborhood.  We are confident that we will find them, as in the past 3 times, very quickly and get home quickly.  Did I mention that we live right at the edge of the Corp of Engineer property on a lake and we have passed 3 dead copperheads on the road.

After 15 minutes, I am starting to get a little concerned.  I have not heard any other dogs barking nor seen any activity related to dogs.  We expand our search a little further outside the “usual” area of missing dog activity.  After 30 minutes, I’m getting more than concerned, I call my husband.  He is very reassuring and says things will be okay, but that he will head home.  I get worried enough I call a neighbor and he gets in his car and we both start looking.  Five minutes more I have another neighbor that I don’t even know looking.

At 45 minutes, I call 911.  I’m starting to get upset.  When the 911 operator starts asking me all the usual pertinent questions, I loose it.  My mind goes anywhere from one of the dogs has been hit and my son doesn’t want to come home and tell me, to he has chased them onto Corp property been bitten by a snake and can’t get to me.  I’m trying to keep it together to answer the operator’s questions.  They assure me that officers are on their way.  Now, the operator has decided to call the fire department to help because it’s getting dark and the fire department can call in helicopters.  Now my mind has gone to O.M.G. this is serious.

About this time, the first police officer starts to arrive, I think I see in the distance a dog maybe two.  Now I can’t see much of anything because of the tears.  I jump in the van and start driving like a mad woman, can it be?  Oh please let it be my child!  I get there and it IS!  He is unharmed and wondering why I’m so upset.    I have gone through emotional hell.  I’m hugging him so hard and crying I can’t let go.   My sweet neighbor rounds up the dogs and tells me everything is going to be okay.  The police officer looks at me like I’m a woman without a clue.

I don’t know whether to beat him or confine him to his room until he is 35.  I finally calm down enough to explain to him I’m not upset about the dogs getting out.  I was upset because he had been gone for almost an hour and I didn’t know what had happened to him or where he was.

To say the least I aged several years tonight!  Hug your babies, tell them you love them, no matter what their ages!


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Attacked at the Tutor’s Home

You would not believe what happened to me this afternoon!  I’ve heard stories, but never in my 53 yrs. did I ever think this would happen to me!

I drop my son off at his tutor’s home, say goodbye, (Thank goodness I was walking backwards!) and DING I feel something wet and heavy on the back of my neck.  This is the way my  mind was working: It’s too hot and dry to be rain and it was to heavy a hit to be a rain drop.  OMG, I’ve been POOPED on!  But I’m not sure, I can’t even image that a bird would be so rude as to POP me with a poop.  So to make sure, I take my delicate little hand and wipe the back of my neck.  It was greenish brown, not black and white so my mind (still in denial) says “See it can’t be poop!  Smell it!”  So I do.  Apparently a little to close to my nose, because when I get back to the van (now with brown on my the back of neck, my hand and my nose) my husband and daughter ask “What’s that on your nose?”

“Oh Sh*t!”  is all I can say.  Naturally they nearly fall out of the van laughing when they realize that I basically have been baptized in bird doo!  Luckily, I am a well prepared Mom and carry wet wipes.  Mr Funnyman (a.k.a. my hubby) decides to lengthen my humilation and stumbled around “trying” to open the wipes.  Finally my sweet daughter takes pity on her poor Mom and gets the wipes and cleans my neck and nose.

Thank goodness I was walking backwards or it would have hit me square in the face and I would have hated to officially and finally at the age of 53 become Sh*tfaced!


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Surprise After Eleven Years

You just never know what you will find out after being together eleven years. We are doing a little repair work around the old hacienda and some paint needs to be applied. I’ve thrown out my neck, so my sweet hubby tells me he will help.

I have mixed emotions about this because he is not known for his handyman skills.  I know he is very focused, but this is some throw down work.  I accept his help a little reluctantly.  I know it will be done well, but will we get any sleep tonight.

Well, I look around and the next thing I know… poof the painting is knocked out and it’s a spectacular job. Come to find out, before becoming Mr. Super Geek, my sweet hubby was a commercial painter for 2 years. I was stunned.  In all the years we have been together, both as work partners and now as married partners you would think this would have come up.  No, nada, not a word.  My man can keep a secret.

You just never know what you are going to find out around here.


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For those that do not know, I just turned 53 and my kids are 9 and 7.   Okay, I admit I got a late start.   So late in fact, that my younger sister-in-law became a grandmother for the first time a month after I gave birth to my second child.

So, I’m out with the kids today running a few errands. We enter one of the stores discussing the Texas heat and what it does to bubble gum and why you have to watch where you are going in Texas in June – August, but no so much October – April. Apparently the gentleman greeter at the department store overheard our conversation as we came in.

We investigate the store throughly, and had a wonderful time. We made our purchases after careful deliberation and headed out the door. Just as we were leaving I hear “You sure a very young Grandma”. Naturally my sweet child informed him, that I was just plain “old Mom” and they didn’t have a Grandma, just an Aunt Ginger.

Poor man was so embarrassed. I explained there was no need to feel awkward, it was a human mistake and that most people with common sense were grandparents at my age. I hugged him and he said he felt better. As we left, my sweet children asked why he called me a grandma because I sure didn’t look like one.

Did I mention my children now get unlimited computer and DS time….. for life!

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Nose Hairs

My fabulous little girl has had a stuffy nose for a week or so. I unfortunately did not notice this until just the other day because as all Moms know, boogers always accompany stuffy noses. My little precious was growing a cornucopia of extra terrestrials of the mucous variety. Naturally as a loving, caring, concerned Mom it was left up to me to harvest the afore mentioned bounty.

Unfortunately, a day or two went by before old Mom remembered the booger bounty and boy was I surprised. If these specimens had been gold nuggets, we would all be heading for a nice vacation – first class – with money to spare. These bad boys had basically glued themselves, no entrenched themselves to my little precious’s nasal hairs to the point I had to use scissors to cut them out. That’s right I have special curved scissors that are incredible at surgically removing boogers. I never thought when I bought the scissors for crocheting that this would end up being their purpose in life, but who am I to question the karma of a good pair of scissors.

So I say to all Moms and Dads, do not let boogers become bountiful. Consciously, keep a watchful eye on little noses before boogers become “bad boys”.

More Truths from a Stay at Home Mom

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Thumb Sucking…. The End of an Era

My little girl has sucked her thumb her entire life.  I’ll bet she even did it in the womb.  We never had to worry about a pacifier, she always had her thumb… only the left one.  She said it tasted better than the right one.  It has been a fabulous friend, comforting tool and sleeping aid.  But as with the “Wildwood weed”, all good things must come to an end.

Well, the thumb sucking era has come to an end.  We went to the orthodontist on Monday and he told us what we had been dreading.  Her thumbing has caused her to now need some type of spreader in her mouth and then braces.  The main thing is that she must now stop the habit.  As our wonderful orthodontist stated, it’s a good thing we started this process during the summer and not during the school year.  There is going to be some lose of sleep over this.

Last night was our first night.  As I walked by her room, I heard big huge heart felt tears.  I was really surprised that she was taking this so seriously and honestly trying to stay away from the thumb.  I was so proud of her and her big girl attitude.  She cried for quite awhile, telling me how difficult it was and how much she really enjoyed her thumb.  I really felt sorry for her, unlike most addictions, she couldn’t walk away from hers.

I crawled into bed with her and we discussed all the alternatives that might help.  We talked about all sorts of solutions, but finally came up with rubbing satin with her right hand as usual but giving her left hand and thumb to her “Sweet Dream” bear to hold.  She grabbed the bear with her left arm, rolled over and finally went to sleep probably for the first time in her life, without sucking her thumb.

My little girl is really getting to be a big girl.

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