So it begins... with a series of unusual symptoms that persisted for 2 + weeks leading up to a visit to the doc. Poor Myla. She's so young to have such necessary, extraordinary measures taken to ensure the proper health of her digestive system, don't you think? Well... I'm not entirely sure who this was more traumatic for... She, or I... OR - her FATHER - who did nothing more than convince the child to finally "poop in the bucket". Okay - wait. I do owe him credit for that. I was in the kitchen washing dishes - overhearing every wail emitted from our mini-drama-queen, along with the high-decibel conversation that ensued, which I'm sure the neighbors are storing to memory in case they are questioned later by child-protection-services personnel. But alas, the 'dirty-work' falls to me, yet again.
There was a need to collect a sample of the good stuff. Make that 3 samples - via 3 separate containers, 2 of which require immediate refrigeration. Say Whaaaaat? You want me to put WHAT, WHERE??? That is the part that makes it a bit on the traumatic-side for mommy. Undoubtedly, I could handle the prodding. But refrigeration? As in, placing this into the same unit that maintains an appropriate temp for the long-term storage of our FOOD? Thankfully, we have a fridge downstairs that is nary used for anything more than beer and pop. Now, we can add a second letter-"O" to the latter, and we have a refrigerator that has a story to tell.
But there's more to this story. Yes, it gets better. After dad commenced his own 'prodding' - in getting the child to willingly release 3-days-worth of pent-up waste, due to her fear of "pooping in the bucket", I commenced the physical prodding of the goods to supply laboratory staff (you know - the ones who get PAID to prod), with enough to determine whether there should be any underlying concern. Of course, as it stands, the day after the doc-appointment, her symptoms miraculously disappeared... I actually considered tossing this lab-test by the wayside therefore, but family history deems it necessary to rule out some potential evils. Oh, the things a mother will do for the peace-of-mind in knowing her children are indeed healthy! However, I do believe that this propels me back into superhero territory! Far be it from daddy to disagree. In a matter of months, I've gone from being dubbed "Throw Up Girl", to losing my "Girl-Power" to natural causes, and back up the ranks again - to "The Poop-Prodder". Boy, am I proud. What can I say? I'm a woman of many talents.
The story continues... As I'm diligently gathering one particular sample, necessitating a very precise amount of fecal matter to bring a source liquid inside of said container to an exact measurement pinpointed on the outside of the bottle, my sweet, sweet 5-year-old proceeds to inform me of something rather educational. "You're going to get dirty... You're going to have to wash your hands." "Thanks honey - I'll remember that." I'm pretty sure I'm going to feel the need to take an all-out shower if I can't get this liquid up to the damn line in an efficient amount of time, and perhaps buy a new refrigerator as well. But we'll see if the hand-cleansing will suffice.
While dad made his way wearily back into the vicinity of the bathroom to congratulate Myla for going through with it, I proceeded to talk myself into believing whole-heartedly that there was absolutely nothing on the outside of the outer bag containing this human digestive matter that might contaminate our beer and pop, to little avail. Now - I'm just mentally-blocking the fact that such matter resides in any refrigerator, anywhere. In the midst of my mind's ramblings, I began to laugh... as I found myself thinking my infamous last-words... "I feel a blog coming on!"
Daddy did, by the way, congratulate me on another super-heroesque job... lovingly dubbing me "The Poop-Prodder". I'll hold that dear to my heart, forever.
TIP: When in the throws of treacherous terrain, remind yourself how well you'll sleep when this too, passes - and you're peace-of-mind has been achieved. Ah yes - the end to the means. And - Don't eat yellow snow.... or anything out of that brown bag inside the refrigerator in our basement.
A QUOTE: "What? You pooped
in the refrigerator? And you ate the whole... wheel of cheese? How'd
you do that? Heck, I'm not even mad; that's amazing." ~Ron Burgundy, communicating with his dog in The Anchorman
WHIDFML: During my latest "MomME Day". I spent a great deal of time updating things on my online hot-spots, including FaceBook, which had been rather neglected for a series of months-on-end.
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