Today my son crapped his pants, but seriously all jokes aside, he one hundo percent did, which totally sucks because he is also 100 percent potty trained. In fact, he has been for almost a year now. Though, truth be told, he crapped himself while he was trying to get his pants down for the toilet. In all fairness you really can't be too mad at him for that. He was just so damn excited about playing with his cars, he held it until the last possible minute, and as he said he "didn't know what was happening! It just came out." Poor fella.
What? Too much information for you? Oh, come on, we are on the deepest level of open communication here aren't we? Aren't we though?
I come on here and lay it all out. I just lay it all on the line for what it is. Together we laugh and we cry about all things motherhood, wifehood, and just whatever life sees fit to throw our way. It's not really about me and my stories here, as much as it is about the parts of my stories you connect with. The moments you have gone through yourself, that are kinda, sorta, even a little bit like mine. We can laugh at having our kid spill a hot drink on us, and cry about some stupid high school breakup, not necessarily because you're feeling my physical pain, but because you can connect it to a pain you yourself have felt. We laugh about the funny time I sewed my finger to a pouf because of my lack of ability to sew, maybe not because it happened to you, but because you did something similar. That is why I love this place. I get to share with you, and so often ya'll are willing to email me and share with me something that you connected with on here. Thank you for making this place so wonderful, and for making life a little more rad.
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