Snap, Crackle, Poop

My life is poop.

I can see my mother now, 60% chuckling, 30% embarrassed and 10% nervous about where I am going with this. At family dinners, especially when non-family members are present,  I tend to whip out "bowel" talk .To which she always responds, "Gosh girl, I don't know where you learned to talk so uncouth."  To which I always respond, "I learned it all from you Janet." Or "Janice" or "Janine." Her whole name is just Jan with no middle name; hence the reason I always spice it up. And no, I learned it not from her.

Mom.

Shamefully I tell you, we are a divided household...Julius does in fact say "fart", all the while I say "toot". We do not agree with each other's lingo. Fortunately, Jet sides with Big Mama on this. Benjamin can choose when he is aware of the gas coming forth from his chunky and cellulite infested hiney. Speaking of the beast, it's absolutely astounding to hear the powerful gaseous combustion that can come from a wee baby. It can shake the house and last for what seems like minutes. All the while they are sleeping or staring off, having no clue that they are the reason for the roaring laughter.

The older I get, the more and more I find myself acting like an 8 year old boy. If you were a fly on the wall in our home, you would think you had 4 young boys living under the same roof. If I ever do anything that Jet is proud of me for, he responds with, "Good boy Mommy!" I keep thinking to myself,  "Self, you are a 28yr old woman, when will you become ladylike and prim?" I don't know.

What I do know is, everything in this house always gets brought back to poop. If there is a foul smell, no matter how it smells, the question, "what smells like poop?" is asked. If someone has bad breath, the comment made is, "Your breath smells like death mixed with poop." Popcorn is poopcorn. Soup is poop. Poptarts are pooptarts. You get the picture. Having 2 little boys in diapers, we are always dealing with poop, and there are always musical toots being released into the atmosphere. Don't worry, not from me. Although the 3 boys rip them left and right, I will not in front of Julius. I need to keep some attraction going. I stick to belching. I make up for the lack of intestinal gas with esophagus gas. I strive to be like my sister who can burp like nobodies business.

I cannot take credit for the title of this blog. I received this in a text from my sister Rachel's boyfriend, Daniel.

Daniel trying to kill me.

 Although he is in a different walk of life from us, his life also revolves around poop. I dedicate this blog entry to him, and to my Uncle Buddy who owns Appalachian Pumping in Boone, NC. Call him for all your septic tank needs.

I very much enjoy hanging out with Rachel and Daniel. My sister is the youngest one, yet she is the most mature acting and usually doesn't add much to our convos on poop and toots. We have come up with many fun phrases for these activities. We often refer to tooting as "cracking joints." So in this case, you can always blame the gas on your arthritic knees, stiff neck or misaligned back. Last weekend we all ate Indian food together. What text did I receive from Daniel that night? Great question, I'm dying to share. "My curry left in a hurry." Did appreciate this text? Absotootly I did.

The lovely couple.

A few weeks ago at the dinner table, Jet sat there tooting. The kind that keeps going and going. We were laughing hysterically because A. it was funny and B. we were impressed. Then he turned red trying to get more out because of our reactions. He then said, "Mommy now you toot." So I made a fake sound with my mouth. To which he responded, "No mommy, toot from the penis." Now we know where he thinks they come from.

Jet trying to toot from the penis.

I am going to leave you with "Linger" from the Cranberries. This was a music video we made in 2007 while living in San Clemente,CA. I do hope you enjoy. Thank you.

 P.S. Janine, I kept it clean and vague, all for you. I love you dearly.

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