Tub Turds

Last night Chris and I had a night out (woot!) and went to see a reading of a new book (#1 on the NYTimes Best Sellers List as of yesterday).  The author, the Bloggess, is hysterical to me -- hysterical in the same way that David Sedaris is.  Half of the material is just embarrassing so when you read it in public you might get nervous that people will see you reading it.  Then you snort anyway because it's that funny.

Her advice was to find your voice, whatever it may be.  Also, delete half of what you write to tighten things up.

I'm afraid my voice trends towards the crass, and probably has no place on a baby blog, but it's what I have.  And, seconding other points made by the Bloggess, life is pretty absurd, the mundane can be pretty funny, and weird things happen to us all.

Over the months Chris and I have had a series of "what if" conversations.  What if one of them does x?  Or y?  Or, god forbid, z?  Usually the variables are "poo in the armpits" type scenarios.  We're alarming nonchalant about major injury, but serious or disgusting mess?  Since I am the poopy mom (milk mom is tasked with other essential functions), I take the mental preparation of the "what ifs" very seriously.  I must stay vigilant.

Inevitably you get a little lax when months pass without a "what if" incident.

I won't post the picture Chris texted me, but let's say the Moms got a birthday gift last Monday as well.  I was still at work and the text said something like "WE NEED BACK UP STAT".  It was followed by an immediate call.  One child, who shall remain nameless, "dropped the kids off at the pool" or, in this case, the tub.  Chris rescued the kiddos before anything got mistaken for a bath toy and I got home in time for bleachy clean-up... of the tub, not the children.

It makes sense that it could happen, you just hope it never will.