There’s blood in my POOP

by Guest Writer E.

This was too good not to post.  What story about poop is?

I’ve had raging diarrhea for 4 months now.  I shit when I eat.  I shit when I drive.  I shit so much my butthole hurts.

I changed my diet.  Less carbs.  Less sugar.  No caffeine and no soda.

Then two days ago there was bright red blood in my poop.  And dripping out of my butt.  I made a doctor’s appointment thinking bacterial infection or something.  HELP!  

Because I needed an appointment immediately I got a new doctor I’ve never had before.  She asked the usual questions about diet and exercise.  Then she took a good long look at things down there, lubed her finger and stuck it in.  It was awkward when she swirled it.  But the worst part by far was that MY BUTTHOLE is already red and hurts.  Why would I want anyone near it?

Things only got worse.  She asked about stress.  I told her my mom and dad didn’t have a good relationship and that they divorced when I was 5 and he died recently.  I brought up that I don’t ever orgasm during sex (an issue I ask doctors about and they never give me a good answer).  She asked if my father had ever touched me without permission and then suggested that maybe I was blocking it and stress from that was the reason I can’t orgasm and am having raging diarrhea.

I left with no answers, no help, and a butthole that had been violated.  That’s my day.



There is not enough coffee in the world to make morning better in a house with 5 kids

I almost cried this morning.  When I almost cry it’s time to blog.

Child #2 popped in to get her Ipad and bag before heading to college.  Her bag was covered in pee.  The cat who is in withdrawal from his anxiety meds because the person who was supposed to refill them put it off for a week and then the vet’s office put it off because it was $10 more than they told us.  Not peeing on everything in my house seems to be worth $35 a month.

The pee was everywhere, on the shoe rack, on the rug by the door, on me.  I carried the bag carefully down to the washing machine to find:

Child #3 had taken my clean laundry out of the dryer while I was working 10 hours yesterday and put it in the basket the cats sleep in by the furnace, which is full of hair and possibly cat vomit.

I tracked child #3 down and demanded she fix this.

Then I opened the washing machine to find the inside covered with black pet litter?  Or poop?  I found Child #3 who said Child #1 washed a doll?  Weird.  Child #1 claimed she never touched the washing machine yesterday, but whatever it was she washed was now in the trash.  I informed her that she was lying and that we both now know this.

I used a baby wipe to wipe out whatever that was and lysol to clean the cat pee on everything else and that’s when:

I started to cry.

Now I have to get ready to go to work and I already want to hide in my room.


This is what OLD AGE looks like

My friend Victoria and I went to a training in Salt Lake City last week and wore ourselves out with all that therapy and wine.  That’s our only excuse for where we ended up.

On opposite ends of a reclining leather couch

sitting on heating pads

drinking wine

with cats

watching Dawson’s Creek

googling actors to see how we know them

which was mostly from soap operas in the 80’s.

This is my poem about becoming OLD.

Science Experiment by Gina

How to Make Mom Crazy

  1. Eat several apples while laying in bed and chatting on Ipad.
  2. Throw cores in trash can in bedroom from bed with the least amount of movement of legs or arms.
  3. Rest.
  4. For one week add more apple cores to trash can.
  5. During the only 2 minutes of motivation the next week, due to a visit from a friend, remove bag of trash, tie loosely, and place outside bedroom door along with the trash can which now has sticky rotting apple stuck to the trash that migrated into the bottom.
  6. Wait one week.  Step over bag.  Ignore bag.
  7. Complain to Mother that something smells upstairs.
  8. Notice and complain about explosion of fruit flies in the house.
  9. Leave for another state.

How a MAN From Wyoming Kills A Skunk, or NOT.

Our dog was barking wildly outside the front door.  It was morning, just after breakfast time for the babies and I had shooed two of the cats out with her to keep them from sharking me.

(Sharking is when a cat rubs against your feet wanting something and then bites you on the ankle.  And no matter what you give it, it’s still not happy.)

I opened the door to see what was going on and came face to asshole with a skunk.  My face to it’s giant puckering anus.  Not ten feet from the door.  I will never forget that gigantic round sphincter staring at me like a hungry sucking sea creature.  Now, I’m known for being calm in a crisis.  So I let one cat in the door behind me and picked the other one up to throw him in.  Save the easiest first!

It was too late for the dog, because she ran at the skunk and was nipping at it’s ass with her face in it’s hole.  I couldn’t really see the rest of the skunk beyond that because it was crouch down into the lawn, hiding behind it’s weapon of stench.

I ran inside shouting for Nick.  He came out of the bathroom and looked frantic and lost at the same time.

“Take a minute and think of what you need,” I said and went back out the front door while he went down the basement stairs, I assumed for a gun.

I grabbed the smelly dog by the collar and dragged her away from the cowered skunk ass while he came around the house from the basement door carrying TWO SHOVELS.

Two shovels?  Is this proper skunk procedure in Wyoming?  Do they sneak up on skunks and catch them between two shovels and carry them gingerly away from the house?

Get your gun!” is all I said and he turned around.  He came back with a long range rifle with a scope.  And shot at it 12 times.  He explained to me afterward that you can’t aim close with something long range.  So he shot up the yard around the skunk.  I’m not even sure he hit it from 10 feet away.  BOOM BOOM BOOM.  I was starting to feel sorry for the skunk.

He walked over to it.

“It’s still breathing,” he said.  And gave me another frantic and lost look.

Then get the shovel and cut its head off, quickly.”   At this point I just wanted the poor thing to pass over to the other side as soon as possible because we didn’t know if it was injured and in pain.  So he went back to the basement and brought the curved shovel instead of the straight one with the sharp edge and . . . it’s was just as bad as you are imagining in your head right now.  I took the dog farther away and turned my back.

Vermonters kill things in a quick merciful way.  Apparently, not so in Wyoming.  I am so so sorry little skunk.

Graduation at the Crazy HOUSE and why I celebrate when it is over.

I feel like this needs a list again.

  • Graduation Day was cold and pouring rain so I started a fire.
  • When I picked up the oldest child in town to bring her home so she could get ready, she had no SHOES and was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt covered in white cat hair.
  • “Don’t worry,” she said to me.  “I have clean clothes in the trunk of your car.”
  • “The clothes are wet for some reason and smell bad.”  (When I opened the trunk later everything was dry but smelled like dirty laundry because it all WAS.)
  • So she went barefoot, in the pouring rain in her clothes.
  • The daughter who graduated was standing in the reception line after the ceremony and said “Look what I got” and waved her diploma at the oldest child, which pissed her off so badly that she stormed off and only came back to the house to get her things and storm off again, saying we all ruin her self esteem and that she will never come back.
  • She got her GED at 16 and is now in college.
  • The daughter who graduated then got pissy and raged about who was invited to her party because she HATES everyone that anyone else wants to see.
  • The husband pissed off all the children when he was frosting the cake.  I don’t know how.  All I heard was the word ASSHOLE over and over again.

The moral of this story is that my family doesn’t think they should pretend to get along for my sake.  I’m not sure if that’s a good thing–good to be genuine, or a bad thing.  I am hiding in my room.

A REAL MOTHER’S DAY. It’s all about Cat Pee in the Basement. What should I give my wife for Mother’s Day?

People post Mother’s Day wishes all over Facebook to show that they are grateful for all the mothers in their lives.

These posts really just make me feel crappier as Mother’s Day is not normally a good day in my house.

No matter how low my expectations, no matter how much I don’t do holidays, no matter how much I want to NOT CARE:


I have 5 kids and I do everything for them AND I am the primary breadwinner in my house.  I don’t want to whine about everything I do.  I also don’t want to whine about how physically and mentally deteriorated I have become.

I just want to bullet my Mother’s Day so that other mothers who have the same kind of day don’t feel alone in it.  From the looks of Facebook yesterday everyone else had a GREAT FAMILY FILLED DAY OF CELEBRATION.

This blog is for the mothers who didn’t post anything because the most exciting event of the day was poop on the wall and no one wants to see a picture of that.

  •  Gina got up with the boys and let me sleep in until 8, brought me coffee, and made me breakfast.  I am lucky to have Gina.
  •  Emily asked me to buy her a bunch of different stuff  when she is 18 and without a job and whined.
  •  Nick “researched” lawnmowers for another hour and a half while ignoring everything else.  After spending 2 hours a week ago.  And the St. Johnsbury store has 3 mowers and Littleton 4.  That’s 7 mowers to choose from and some are the same mower.
  •  Then he said “I’m ready to go get one.”
  •  I got pissy that he didn’t help get anyone else ready to go.
  •  He said “I’ve been just waiting for you.”
  •  I put two kids down for naps, cleaned up toys and the kitchen, all while he was waiting.
  •  Haley sent me a FUCK YOU text.  This is not unusual.  I was just hoping not to get one on this particular day.
  •  Emily screamed at me repeatedly for saying Get A JOB.
  •  I bought Nick a lawnmower for $360.
  •  and then spent 100 at Walmart on shit for everyone else.
  •  I am pissy that I make the money.
    –and am the MOM
    –and don’t even get flowers or a card.
  •  Then Nick spent another hour on the lawn with his lawnmower, with no gas, just looking at it.
  •  Jude shit on the wall.
  •  And Emily continued to harass me about things. They have Friday off  from school and she wants to go get piercings and play in town. NOT.
  •  She followed me to bed at 10 to whine some more.
  •  I sent Nick a text at work just before 10 saying “I think you should guess why I’m frustrated today.”

HIS REPLY:  Probably because there’s still cat piss in the basement I guess.