Some days are really Fleeting

Today has been one such day. But perhaps not for the reason you may be thinking.

I had to give Tessie an enema today. You read that correctly. A Fleet's enema.

Oh. My. God.

The Toot's hasn't been feeling too hot lately and I think the culprit is her little belly. Of course, faced with a myriad of possibilities, and a child who can't talk,  you may wonder how I so skillfully managed to figure out the mystery.

Simple.

 I called  Nurse Sheila. (If I were an analogy word problem on the SAT's I would be written as such: Sheila is to Joanna as a security blanket is to Linus. Charlie tells me to stop bugging her at work. Whatever. Linus is never without his security blanket. Just sayin'.)

We discussed all of her symptoms; increased heart rate, increased seizures, sleeping a lot, and oh, yeah, not really, ahem, pooping all that much. Gross, I know.

We pulled out the usual bag of tricks but to no avail. Things were becoming desperate. It was at this point that Sheila and I decided that Tess needed an enema. Sheila has given her an enema before. She is a nurse, and while not her favorite thing to do, it really isn't a big deal to her. I was more than happy to let her deal with that situation at the time but here we were again and my faithful Sheila was an ocean away.

Sigh.

I very heroically did my duty as a mother. And Tess did her doodie too. Duty and doodie. Say them together. They sound very similar, don't they? Well I'm here to tell you, they aren't.

Sounds that should never be heard coming from a small child were reverberating out of The Toot's like buckshot. Noises that made the hubby and I stop and stare at each other in a near panicked state. He very unceremoniously dumped her on her bed and left me to deal with the outcome. Literally. Round one goes to Tess and Charlie.

 I don't even know why I am blogging about this of all things. My only excuse for even exposing you to this unbelievably disgusting event is that I think I am in shock from dealing with the aftermath that even now, two diapers for Tess and a pair of shorts change for Charlie later (he was holding her when round two hit which was extremely funny to me; him, not so much. Round two goes to Tess and Joanna), I fear is not over.

I will be approaching her tomorrow very much like a member of a bomb squad would when faced with an unknown package that could blow at any minute. Very delicately and with precision like movements.

For her part, The Toots is now very happy. The old saying, "happy as a pig in shit" instantly comes to mind (I know, lame. It was just too perfect to pass up though). And bonus, her heart rate is down.

I am hoping tomorrow will be a good day for us here at Casa de Reidy.

And God willing, it will not be FLEETing.