A Quick Update Late At Night
It's 10:58 p.m., Friday night. Today, I took care of two toddlers all day, coaxed my 11 year old twins through their first internet school lesson, did several loads of laundry, made a nutritious dinner (chicken in the crockpot, baked potatoes for them, a baked sweet potato for me), showered Babygirl and sneaked away from the house at 6:45 p.m. I went to our church's Young Couple's Bible Study, which amuses me because I am neither young, nor do I attend the group as part of a couple. My husband stays home with the extremely skittish Babygirl who would surely scream until her head actually popped off and then fly around the room like an inflated balloon when you let go without tying it.
During the meeting, my mind drifted. At the other end of the table sat a young military couple. She is seven months pregnant and possibly the most beautiful pregnant woman I've ever seen. She's tall and thin under normal circumstances, blond and fair-skinned and now she has this gorgeous baby-filled belly, exactly like Midge, only my friend has shorter hair. She's an officer in the military herself, having graduated from West Point, which still surprises me because she is such a soft-spoken, gentle woman.
Her husband is a quiet man, not very tall, but a Ranger in the Stryker Brigade which is going to replace the unit that is currently serving in Mosul, Iraq. Not long ago, I found a blog by a soldier serving in Mosul, and quickly became enamored by his writing. I wasn't alone, alas, and soon enough the chain of command caught wind of it and effectively shut down his blog, but not before I got a glimpse into life in Mosul for American soldiers. He still writes, but nothing personal, no details, no clues about what's really happening in Mosul. Still, it's worth checking out the blog to see the few archived posts that still remain on the site. (Most of them were removed.)
So, I looked down the table tonight and thought that this man would soon be taking the place of CB (the blog-writer) or a soldier exactly like him. I hope the fighting eases soon in Mosul. I hope the entire country of Iraq settles down. In the meantime, while he's deployed, his first child, a son, will be born.
The meeting ended with a sudden hilarious change of topics in which someone said, "speaking of urination and feces" and I said, "Oh, are we sharing poop stories now?" and the woman next to me said, "Oh, I have one!" and proceded to tell how her now 3-year old, newly potty-trained son, made a deposit in his pants and then--in the midst of our town's lovely, quaint, old-time soda-fountain restaurant, shook the poop out of his underpants and down his pant-leg and onto the floor. Meanwhile, his mom is feeling his bottom to see if the smell came from him, but felt nothing. A bit later, she glanced down and saw evidence of the smelly deed on the floor of the restaurant.
Really, doesn't everyone have a poop story? Although perhaps not as dramatic as the story dooce tells, or as funny as marbles of the brown stuff on a restaurant floor, but we all have a story.
Am I right? Or am I right?
Good grief, I need to go to bed. This makes two unsavory posts in a week. My sincere apologies.
During the meeting, my mind drifted. At the other end of the table sat a young military couple. She is seven months pregnant and possibly the most beautiful pregnant woman I've ever seen. She's tall and thin under normal circumstances, blond and fair-skinned and now she has this gorgeous baby-filled belly, exactly like Midge, only my friend has shorter hair. She's an officer in the military herself, having graduated from West Point, which still surprises me because she is such a soft-spoken, gentle woman.
Her husband is a quiet man, not very tall, but a Ranger in the Stryker Brigade which is going to replace the unit that is currently serving in Mosul, Iraq. Not long ago, I found a blog by a soldier serving in Mosul, and quickly became enamored by his writing. I wasn't alone, alas, and soon enough the chain of command caught wind of it and effectively shut down his blog, but not before I got a glimpse into life in Mosul for American soldiers. He still writes, but nothing personal, no details, no clues about what's really happening in Mosul. Still, it's worth checking out the blog to see the few archived posts that still remain on the site. (Most of them were removed.)
So, I looked down the table tonight and thought that this man would soon be taking the place of CB (the blog-writer) or a soldier exactly like him. I hope the fighting eases soon in Mosul. I hope the entire country of Iraq settles down. In the meantime, while he's deployed, his first child, a son, will be born.
The meeting ended with a sudden hilarious change of topics in which someone said, "speaking of urination and feces" and I said, "Oh, are we sharing poop stories now?" and the woman next to me said, "Oh, I have one!" and proceded to tell how her now 3-year old, newly potty-trained son, made a deposit in his pants and then--in the midst of our town's lovely, quaint, old-time soda-fountain restaurant, shook the poop out of his underpants and down his pant-leg and onto the floor. Meanwhile, his mom is feeling his bottom to see if the smell came from him, but felt nothing. A bit later, she glanced down and saw evidence of the smelly deed on the floor of the restaurant.
Really, doesn't everyone have a poop story? Although perhaps not as dramatic as the story dooce tells, or as funny as marbles of the brown stuff on a restaurant floor, but we all have a story.
Am I right? Or am I right?
Good grief, I need to go to bed. This makes two unsavory posts in a week. My sincere apologies.
posted by Melodee at Friday, September 17, 2004
4 Comments:
I love this post. (Your young adult bible study sounds like someplace I could totally hang out if you tell Poop stories. Haven't found a church that cool down here.) ;-)
As a pregnant lady, and as a military daughter, I can appreciate both perspectives. While it kills me to think of families not being together during the birth of a child, I know several strong, amazing people who are living just that life. And the most amazing thing to me is how strong and wonderful and honest they are about it. I pray for them. It's all I can do.
The guy poopers are truly at a disadvantage...since they have never learned LaMaze breathing...it really helps in these situations....pity...
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"extremely skittish Babygirl who would surely scream until her head actually popped off and then fly around the room like an inflated balloon when you let go without tying it."
You wrote about so much in this entry...but that is the phrase I will have stuck in my head for awhile...:)
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