When Cal got home from school, I 'came clean' about sharting, as he normally finds this sort of thing hilarious. Smaller than dime sized, but actual feces nonetheless. You have GOT to be shitting me! No, I was shitting MYSELF. I panic, drop the F-bomb, and dash for the loo. I am over the cold basically, minding my own business getting ready to fix a bottle for Lola, and as it's normal to fart approximately 14 times daily (I shit you not!), I may or may not have let one slide, only to be greeted by that unfamiliar gooey sensation I'd JUST made fun of Scott for about a week prior. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!'įast forward to about a week ago. Scott - 'Do you think our babysitter is listening to this conversation?' I'm not afraid to admit I have sharted, and I will likely shart again.' Scott - 'Only if you're an infant! Nastyyyyy!' Gwen - 'I think I'll pass, but we ALL shit our pants from time to time, it's NORMAL.' Scott - 'WHAT?!?! No you haven't! GO FIND A PAIR OF MY BOXERS THAT HAVE SHIT STAINS IN THEM!!! I do NOT shit my pants.' Gwen - 'No, I'm pretty sure I've seen skid marks in your boxers since we've been married.'

I tested the waters out on farting post cha-cha-cha & I lost.' I think it was my junior year & I'd been sick. Scott - 'No, I'm serious, I remember exactly when it happened last. Gwen - 'There is NO WAY IN HELL you've not sharted since high school.'

(the next day, as the near-shart incident occurred at like 2:00 am!) Glad I didn't break my streak (pun intended)!'Īnd this is when our steamy (HA!) shart debate began. Probably TMI, but he did a quick crack-check and courtesy wipe only to announce, 'FALSE ALARM! WHEW! Thank God, because I'm pretty sure I haven't shit my pants since the early 90's. I exploded in laughter and delight at his misfortune, leaning forward in bed to peer in the john to get a load of this hot mess (literally!). I may have just sharted.' He ditched our Claire (his snuggle bunny!) & beelined for the head. As he laid down to go to sleep one night maybe two weeks ago, he had a coughing attack which was so violent and boisterous that he literally interrupted my story & proclaimed, 'Oh dear. I'd tapered down on the coughing/sneezing/simultaneous peeing, though Scott was still in full effect. Yep, got that bad boy, and then proceeded to pass it on to my hubby - out of love, of course. The kind where you are so f'ing annoyed that you wish you'd gotten the 24 hour flu instead because SURELY a day of puking your brains out beats 6 weeks of coughing and getting half-assed, broken sleep the entire time.

The kind where you cough-so-hard-and-so-often-that-you-maybe-pee-your-pants-on-the-hard-ones (just a little. The kind where you cough for like 6 weeks, hock up & out multiple loogies every 3 minutes, and your body continues producing more amazingly. Rewind to approximately a month or so ago. And I'm not proud.Īnd I am pretty sure the reason it happened was karma. Thank God it wasn't THAT bad (!), but it happened. I often make jokes about this sort of thing, so when it occurs in real life, I am ashamed. I *KNOW* I am surely not alone in this, but it feels like I am. OK, so the other day something reeeeeeally appalling happened to me. Because I am not proud of the following story, but I feel it needs to be told and people need to know they're not alone with this. I warn you in advance, if you're sensitive to stories about bodily functions (specifically involving fecal matter), please just leave my blog NOW. I mean, after all, if you can't make fun of yourself, who can you make fun of, right?!?! And I don't mind being the ass of my own jokes. This is not often discussed, and well, I'm kind of a chicken shit about admitting this type of thing, but here goes anyway. I have hesitated to write this blog for a multitude of reasons, the main one being sheer embarrassment, but also because it's kind of uncouth (first time in my life I've used that word - woohooo!).

Oops i crapped my pants