It's a poo emergency Mummee!
by Wendyon Sunday, 5 February 2012 at 12:28 ·
Last night we had a terrible poo emergency.
We never seem to have poo or spew emergencies when The Daddy is here. Only happens to me.
It was so bad, that I just shut the dunny door not being up to facing the task of cleaning it , and told everyone to take a wee down the bathroom drain until I sort it out. (they are all boys, it's not like they don't do this in the shower already). So I put them to bed, rubber gloved up, and got down on my hands and knees to clean the walls, floor, door and toilet seat and bowl. Yes, it was THAT heinous. I gagged about 10 times, I fcuking hate cleaning the toilet, it's always soooo disgusting.
I make my Mr. do it, usually. I don't piss on the floor, or miss the dunny altogether when I am drunk, so he has to do it. I also make him take out the stinky garbage. I can't stand the smell, and I won't tolerate the interrogation from the old lady brigade about what's in our garbage bags.
Last time he made me do the rubbish, I told one of the old hags it was the severed body parts of the last crusty old bitch who hassled me on my way to take out the trash, that's why they were in a bag marked "burnable". I am now serving a double life time ban from the rubbish collection site for that little number. Suits me fine, my Mr. can deal with the withered old crones and their obsession over our garbage.
Anyway, about an hour and a half later, I had cleaned and disinfected the walls, floor, seat, bowl, door and buttons, used a whole bottle of bleach and half a roll of dunny paper.
Seems I let Duck have too much juice yesterday, and it gave him the Cadbury Squirts, he made it to the toilet, but he is so little, he has to balance his tiny arse over the seat, clinging on for dear life, while he does his business.
Then he slipped. In Mid-Poo. Oh the humanity.
It was a total shit explosion. Witnessed by his brother who tried to help him up, and also got pooed on. I was on the phone. I couldn't tell the person I was talking to why I had to go. People wouldn't understand.
I made them both get in the shower. I cleaned up little poo hand prints. I hope I got them all.
I thought it was a perfect crime, as I had scrubbed the dunny, the floor, the walls the door, washed the clothes, showered the kids, and made it all smell nice and look sparkling clean again. Then I disinfected the bejesus out of my hands. Twice.
I went to bed. Heard The Daddy enter the apaahtoh around 3am, safe in the knowledge all evidence of the massive poo explosion that had occurred earlier in the evening had been flushed away, leaving a nice bleachy clean smell, and nothing else.
This morning, my Mr. decided to go and take a long bath, and give himself a facial (because he is a vain bastard),
and while he was reclining in the bath, Duck came and dropped his dacks, and took a piss up against the bath, while he talked to his (probably shocked) father, then went to wash his hands.
The Daddy quizzed me as to why The Duck told him Mummee has instructed everyone to piss down the drain...
We never seem to have poo or spew emergencies when The Daddy is here. Only happens to me.
It was so bad, that I just shut the dunny door not being up to facing the task of cleaning it , and told everyone to take a wee down the bathroom drain until I sort it out. (they are all boys, it's not like they don't do this in the shower already). So I put them to bed, rubber gloved up, and got down on my hands and knees to clean the walls, floor, door and toilet seat and bowl. Yes, it was THAT heinous. I gagged about 10 times, I fcuking hate cleaning the toilet, it's always soooo disgusting.
I make my Mr. do it, usually. I don't piss on the floor, or miss the dunny altogether when I am drunk, so he has to do it. I also make him take out the stinky garbage. I can't stand the smell, and I won't tolerate the interrogation from the old lady brigade about what's in our garbage bags.
Last time he made me do the rubbish, I told one of the old hags it was the severed body parts of the last crusty old bitch who hassled me on my way to take out the trash, that's why they were in a bag marked "burnable". I am now serving a double life time ban from the rubbish collection site for that little number. Suits me fine, my Mr. can deal with the withered old crones and their obsession over our garbage.
Anyway, about an hour and a half later, I had cleaned and disinfected the walls, floor, seat, bowl, door and buttons, used a whole bottle of bleach and half a roll of dunny paper.
Seems I let Duck have too much juice yesterday, and it gave him the Cadbury Squirts, he made it to the toilet, but he is so little, he has to balance his tiny arse over the seat, clinging on for dear life, while he does his business.
Then he slipped. In Mid-Poo. Oh the humanity.
It was a total shit explosion. Witnessed by his brother who tried to help him up, and also got pooed on. I was on the phone. I couldn't tell the person I was talking to why I had to go. People wouldn't understand.
I made them both get in the shower. I cleaned up little poo hand prints. I hope I got them all.
I thought it was a perfect crime, as I had scrubbed the dunny, the floor, the walls the door, washed the clothes, showered the kids, and made it all smell nice and look sparkling clean again. Then I disinfected the bejesus out of my hands. Twice.
I went to bed. Heard The Daddy enter the apaahtoh around 3am, safe in the knowledge all evidence of the massive poo explosion that had occurred earlier in the evening had been flushed away, leaving a nice bleachy clean smell, and nothing else.
This morning, my Mr. decided to go and take a long bath, and give himself a facial (because he is a vain bastard),
and while he was reclining in the bath, Duck came and dropped his dacks, and took a piss up against the bath, while he talked to his (probably shocked) father, then went to wash his hands.
The Daddy quizzed me as to why The Duck told him Mummee has instructed everyone to piss down the drain...
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