Skrip - tyur' - i - ent: adj. Possessing the violent desire to write.



As usual, I am going to blame my lack of posting on being busy at work. I could write in the evenings, of course; but the truth is that generally after writing all day, my motivation is low to sit down and write some more. But once we get the new computer set up (Hey! We got a new computer for Christmas!) maybe I’ll be a little more excited, considering that our current computer would lock up if you tried to do something demanding, like cut and paste in Word.

So, a quick update:
  • More water in the basement, yah! As I’ve commented on before at length, this fucking money pit of a house drives me crazy. Last month when it was unseasonably warm we got a lot of rain. The basement waterproofing/sump pump system we put in worked great. But the backyard still flooded, and our attempts to divert the water after from the house worked a little too well… the water instead pooled up in the side yard, and filled the basement window wells. When that happened water started to seep in between the cracks in the windows. End result was The Scientist and I out at 11pm digging a trench from the side yard to the street to release the water. And it worked surprisingly well. I spent a long time in the back yard watching the flow of the water, and I’m pretty sure I understand how to contour the land so that the water flows where it should. This is a project (a BIG project) for the spring. Right now the snow and ice have returned, so we should be safe from flooding for a couple of months. *Crosses fingers*
  • Lily hasn’t crapped her pants since the big blow-up. So that’s nice.
  • I’ve been hacking and coughing for weeks; apparently the tail end of whatever ick I got over the holidays. I finally went to the doctor last Monday and he gave me antibiotics. He also told me that the weird little dry patch on my cheek probably isn’t cancer. So that’s one thing to stop worrying about.

That’s about it for now. I’d love to write about some of the frustrating and ridiculous things that have been going on at work… but I’m about 80% sure that some of my co-workers have discovered this site. So I’m not saying anything.


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#236 In which our hero relates the unfortunate--and recently, all too often--contents of his daughter’s pants.

About a week or so ago Lily is playing in the family room and shouts, “I have to go potty!” I rush her off to the bathroom, as always, but this time she says, “uh-oh. Too late.”

And too late it was; she crapped her pants. When I ask her why she would do such as thing (she’s been potty trained for nearly a year now) she says, “I waited too long.” Okay, fair enough. She was playing and waited until the last possible minute to disengage, with disastrous results. I’ve been there (granted, it was in college, and I was really drunk, but I can still relate, y’know?)

Then it happened again.

Now, while The Scientist and I were trying to get her potty trained, we never pushed that hard, and we certainly never punished her for having an accident. But this time… well, it didn’t seem so much an accident as she didn’t really care that she pooped her pants. She wasn’t upset at all; in fact, she almost seemed to enjoy it. She laughed and kidded around, tried to tweak her mama’s nose while she was being changed. Clearly, she didn’t get the seriousness of the situation.

We tried to impress this upon her, but she didn’t seem to be listening. So we put diapers on her. Not the big-girl pull-ups she usually gets at night, but her little sister’s diapers.

And Lily had a fit.

She screamed and carried on and pleaded that she was a big girl, and she didn’t want to wear diapers and on and on. This is good, my wife and I thought, she gets it that there are bad consequences to this unnecessary pants-shitting. We assured her that if she stayed dry the rest of the evening she could wear her big-girl panties again in the morning. She accepted this, but clearly didn’t like it. Huh, I thought. Maybe I’m starting to get the hang of this parenting thing.

Then, an hour later, she crapped in the diaper.

It was a diaper, so it wasn’t like it was a big deal, but The Scientist and I were both like, “Shit. Now what?” Fortunately, it was near bedtime, she we just put her in pull-ups and put her to bed.

Then we had a couple good days (ie., all poop deposited in potty, not pants), and we started to let down our guard. Big mistake.

Last Saturday we were having a couple of friends over for some drinking/Guitar Hero, and about 20 minutes before they were to arrive Lily again says “I have to go potty! Oops, too late!” And once again it’s a big joke to her--but certainly not to us, since we’re trying to give the house a quick cleaning, and don’t need to deal with this of all things.

I’m at a loss of what to do (other than change her) but The Scientist, as often happens in these situations, Takes Control. She changes Lily, puts her into her PJs and says, “That’s it. You’re going right to bed. No snack. No stories.”

Lily loses her mind, of course. She’s mostly upset that she she’s going to bed before our friends get there. “But I want to see the visitors!” she screams. “You’re not being very nice!”

We set up the mothballed baby monitor outside her room, mostly to make sure she stays in bed as instructed. What follows is a pitiful and heartbreaking series of complaints/pleas from upstairs.
This isn’t fair!
I’m locked in my room!
I want to watch TV!
Why can’t I see the visitors!
I want oo-oo-oo-out!
I won’t poop in my pants again! I promise!
And so on. We go upstairs to check on her several times. She’s upset, but seems to finally understand her parents’ position on pants crapping. She tries to make several deals with us, including:
I won’t poop my pants ever again, so you should let me go downstairs!
I need a snack because I’m starving to death!
I just want to go downstairs for a minute. Just one minute!
I’ll just say hi to the visitors then go back to bed!
Can you bring the visitors up to my room so I can play with them?
We end up relenting and giving her a snack, but she remained banished to her bedroom. I told her that I understood that it was a very hard night for her, but that it was best for her to just go to sleep… tomorrow would be a better day.

Finally, after much crying and carrying on, she crashes and falls asleep. It was a little heartbreaking (more so for The Scientist than me) but we got through it.

I can only imagine that this incident will factor prominently in Lily’s therapy sessions when she’s an adult. Sorry honey, but mommy and daddy needed to get their drink on and rock out to Guitar Hero BIG TIME!


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We all survived the holidays.

As previously reported, The Scientist got sick, and remained sick, for days. She basically didn’t get out of bed for four days. Come day three my father-in-law, who is prone to get a little bored, started to give her some shit about it. “You can’t just lay in bed for three days,” he said. “You have to get up. Take a shower and come downstairs; that’ll make you feel better!”

Then, despite my best efforts, I got sick, too. I started to feel crappy on Christmas day, and rapidly went downhill from there. In a perfect world my wife would have started to feel much better about the time I started to get sick… but it didn’t work that way. We were both sick and cranky at the same time. Thankfully the girls never got as sick as we did.

Speaking of the girls… Christmas morning was a big event, of course. They enjoyed their presents (all of them--it’s fun that they’re still at the stage that everything is fun, even clothes. That was always the bummer present for me when I was a kid. “Oh, a box of underwear. Big deal.” But they’re girls, so maybe it’ll be different) and the dueling toy rockets were a big hit. Maybe the best gift was this dumb marble run toy I bought on a lark.

I have to say, The Scientist and I also enjoy playing with it.

The in-laws left the day after Christmas, hoping to avoid the specter of death that was lurking over our home. Can’t say I blame them. It wasn’t the holiday that anyone had wanted.

And now, nearly two weeks after Christmas, The Scientist and I are mostly recovered. I still have a head full of glue, and my wife’s lungs are still a little labored… but Lord knows we’re head and shoulders above where we were.

EPILOGUE: Both my mother-in-law and father-in-law are now sick with what we had. I wish they weren’t, we tried hard to sequester our sick selves so they wouldn’t be infected. The Scientist’s father told her, “I’m so run down, all I want to do is stay in bed.”

To which I say, “Why don’t you get up, take a shower? That’ll make you feel better!”


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