(original post written 10/14/17)

WARNING: Gross Content Ahead. Childless People, Beware.

You may have read in yesterday’s blog where I complained about my kid being sick last week.

Well, if any of you thought, “what kind of bitch complains about her sick baby?” – you’re not alone. Karma was sitting next to you on that boat, and she let me HAVE IT tonight.

The shit I’m about to share with you (quite literally, guys. If you don’t want to know, exit out now. EXIT. OUT. There’s no turning back! You can’t unsee this kind of stuff!)

Just kidding, it’s not that bad.

… or maybe it is? Only you can tell…

Karma on a Deeper Level

When I was younger, I used to poop in very inconvenient places.

Like, just last year I pooped in a hot tub, and no one has let it go since.

… Just kidding, I was like 4. And I really did poop in my aunt’s hot tub (sorry, Aunt Carol). And my cousin really hasn’t let it go since. But I swear I was FOUR, okay? Give me a break! (However, if Cheeky, Jr. is still pooping in places at four, we’re gonna have a real flippin’ problem.)

The best part? My mom refused to clean it!!

So, here I am, 4 years old, pooping in hot tubs… unbeknownst to my poor Aunt Carol, it was not my first time.

…Like, one time, I pooped in my neighbor’s bathtub [sorry, Claire. …And Mad, who may or may not have been in there with me (she was) (maybe). I don’t apologize to my mom, though, because she didn’t clean this one out either! (typical Grammy Cheeks move right there, Mom)].

Seriously, I hear those scoffs from here. Don’t act like you were the perfect child. Sheeiittt. Where I was pooping in hot tubs, you were probably… well, I can’t think of anything worse after tonight, but you were probably doing something totally mortifying that your parents hated!

So there.

Fast Forward 20-something years 

This is not the first time this has happened, and I probably didn’t mention it in yesterday’s blog because I was so disgusted when it did happen that I suppressed it all (who has two thumbs and should have been a psychologist with all this fancy psychology jargon?)

And then tonight happened, and every damn experience came flooding back.

And now, to wind down my soap box, I want you to take a look at this super adorable pic:


Cute, right?

Doesn’t that smile just make you all warm and fuzzy inside?

Doesn’t he just make you want to snuggle him up and give him so many kisses?

Yeah, well, imagine evacuating him from THIS five minutes before, and then tell me how snuggly he looks:

(I’ve already warned you, so I hold zero responsibility for what you’re about to never unsee)


There you have it, Folks.

Never speak ill of your child when s/he’s sick, or Karma will come and bite you two-fold. Furthermore, if you can tell your four-year-old self not to poop in your aunt’s hot tub, and your neighbor’s bathtub, then you might get away with talking shit on your kid every once in a while when said child is sick.

Otherwise, zip it. They’re babies for goodness sake. What kind of monster are you?