Warning this post contains references to bodily functions, both mine and those of a certain feline whose exploits have been referenced here before. If you would rather not read about them, I understand. Please come back tomorrow when I will regale you with stories about the cutest, smartest toddler ever. I promise.
I suffer from IBS. Most of the time I don't have any issues. However, the condition tends to be aggrivated by hormones so there is one day every month on which it hits.
Let me tell you this is a lovely day to be me. The cramps, the moodiness, the cramps, the "issues", the cramps. So fun. Today is one of those days. So if you see me in person today I am likely to bite your head off. I apologize.
When I awoke to cries of "Mommy I have to go potty" I knew that today was the day. I could feel the cramps kicking in full force. I was not happy. I wanted to stay tucked into my warm bed with the covers over my head and wait until the bad stuff had passed. But you can't ignore the cries so I got out of bed. Luckily it was a false alarm (thanks in part to an earlier call at 4:30). I asked if she wanted to come in my bed and she said she'd rather stay in hers.
Great, I have a few more minutes in bed to curl in the fetal position and try to rock away the pain. As I was reaching for the bottle of Advil, I hear "what you doin' momma? Can I have some?" Um, no this huge bottle is just for mommy and when you get older you'll understand why.
So no rest for me. I got up and stumbled downstairs where I handed off Bunny to Bubs. I told him I needed to take care of a few things and he should occupy her. As I headed in to the bathroom, I heard her singing the Wonder Pets theme song and knew she wouldn't bother me. Privacy, glorious privacy.
Or so I thought. The door was soon opened by Tabasco. At first I thought he just wanted some attention and for me to turn the water in the sink on. As I reached down to pet him I saw that he was in the midst of a butt waggle. For those of you who don't know, the butt waggle is the tell tale sign that a cat is about to spray. And Sir Pees-a-Lot had aimed the spray directly at me on my throne. (Now I love this cat unconditionally despite the peeing and the puking but if you pee on me then we have a problem.)
What happened next was like a movie where the hero sees someone about to shoot and it goes all slo-motion. He screams "Noooooo" and jumps in front of the gun to take the bullet for the victim.
I couldn't move. Really, I couldn't move because I wasn't finished. I screamed "Nooooo" and did the heroic thing. I stuck my hand down there in an attempt to block it. I pushed his butt down and redirected the spray to the tile floor instead of my leg. Crisis averted.
When he was finished there was a rather large puddle of pee right next to the toilet just waiting for me to go all Anti-Icky Poo on it. All before 7:30 a.m.