Down the Leg
Poop, that is. More specifically, very watery poop running down Riley’s leg. She didn’t quite make it, she said. I don’t really blame her. From the look of her leg, this wasn’t exactly something she could control.
So I tell her not to move, not a single step, while I get some wipes and then start a bath for her.
On my way to the wipes, I stop in the bathroom to run her water.
Poop. Everywhere. And pee. Probably 60 percent of the bathroom floor is covered in something yellow or brown. Thankfully, we have a small bathroom. Her bath is going to have to wait. First wipes. Then bathroom floor. Then bath.
I threw away the towel I used to mop up all the poop. That’s how bad it was. But now, I think our bathroom floor is cleaner than it has ever been.
In the Face
On Saturday morning, Shawn and I started playing racquetball together. We’ve played at different times in our relationship here and there. This is how it goes: Shawn plays one game with the racket in his right hand. He beats me pretty bad. I think yesterday, my best day, the score of the first game was 15-6, Shawn. Then he switches to his left hand, and things get more competitive. For me, the goal is and has always been to get Shawn to switch back to his right hand. I think in the beginning, like the first time we played together, I don’t think I realized Shawn had switched to his left hand; I just thought I was Most-Improved-Racquetball-Player-of-the-Day or something. Now I know better.
So we started playing again. Apparently, our racquets were pretty old, too. So old, that on Monday, a gentleman walked by, stopped, and popped his head in to ask exactly when the last time we had played was. The 1990’s? Then he proceeded to let me borrow one of his nice, new, wide, and light-weight rackets. Man, was that fun. I even beat Shawn once or twice (after he switched to his left, though).
So when we were out running errands yesterday, we treated ourselves to 15 dollar new racquets. Seriously: how was I supposed to go back to using one of our old rackets? Sorry, Daddio…I think the next stop for them is our garage toy bin or ebay.
Then we played last night. And I took two hits to the face.
The second one wasn’t that bad. It really just grazed my forehead and still managed to hit the front wall. But the first one stung. Right to the cheekbone. I saw the blue coming and couldn’t turn out of the way fast enough. We finished playing, but by 11:00, I was done. My head hurt, and I just wasn’t feeling great. My head is still spinning this morning.
Was it worth it? Absolutely. Plus, I kind of love battle wounds/scars/bruises. Am I thankful Shawn was playing with his left hand? Absolutely. Do I need a pair of racquetball goggles? Probably.