Two Silly Girls, Mr. Bean and Bathroom Humour

I sadly spilled coffee on myself this morning and since all my other pants were in the wash already, I had to walk the kids to school with a freezing thigh in the frosty weather.

But I was reminded of another story...

One of my dearest friends was a fellow student in University.  We met on the first day of intro-week, and while other students ran wild through the dormitories, drunk and body-painted, we found ourselves hiding on my dorm room floor, each confessing we were terrified.  We (figuratively) held on to each other and almost 20 years later have never let go.

So when we were able to get away together to the big city of Toronto, we jumped at the chance.  There was a baking and sweets show, and since we both loved baking and sweets, we booked a hotel and our tickets.

While at the show, other than eating and snapping pictures of incredible cakes, we attended one small lesson on cake decorating.  Like the English classes we giggled and snorted our way through in university, this class was to be the same.

The workshop was led by professional pastry chef, Jorg Amsler, who, a surprise to us, was Swiss.  My friend, a proud immigrant from Switzerland, cheered and pumped her arms in the air, giving her nationality away. During a short Swiss German conversation with Chef Amsler, my friend was in her element.

I leaned in to whisper, "All I know how to say is 'ich mues uf s'WC'," which means 'I have to go to the bathroom', and we snorted and giggled just like we were nineteen again.  Jorg continued the class in English.

As I scribbled down what he was saying, my friend started looking through her large bag.  There was a lot of huffing and sighing going on as she pulled out wet papers, soggy tissues and a slightly opened bottle of water.

The bottle had leaked throughout everything in her bag.  I groaned. She groaned.

And then, as she proceeded to lift her carpet bag, we discovered her entire lap was soaking wet from her waist down to her knees.  "Oh no," she moaned, and then burst out laughing. We giggled and snorted again, trying to get ahold of ourselves as not to insult the Swiss Chef.

"So much for taking your photo with him!" I laughed. It looked as if she'd peed her pants.

Luckily we were planning to go back to the hotel afterward anyway, so we got in the car to head out, but not before she went into the bathroom, and pulled a Mr. Bean. (well, at least part of it :) )

There were loads of other things that happened.  I lost my camera (in the bathroom) on the first day.  We were too loud in the restaurant and people nearby got up and left.  She spilled a whole coffee into my car seat and I had to sit on a plastic bag.  And that was just the first day.

When we got to the hotel, we asked the concierge for some paper towels to help clean up the spilled coffee.

"Oh, yes. Of course we have them. Just hold on," and he disappeared around the corner and never came back.

Two more times throughout the weekend we stopped in at the front desk and asked the same man for paper towels.  And each time he'd say, "Oh, yes. Of course we have them. Just hold on," and he'd disappear around the corner and never come back.

So at the end of the weekend, my friend dashed into the bathroom and stole the box of kleenex, mumbling something about paper towels and the crazy concierge.

But despite blotting the seat with kleenex, I still had to ride home sitting on a plastic bag.  But I wasn't the one with the wet bum.

My dear friend had not packed any other pants.

A Cop, A Nurse, and a Personal Trainer...a regular crackerjack day.

The house is very warm as the fireplace has been stoked. A three-year-old boy is standing in his underwear. Plants are knocked over, one small tree is up on the kitchen table.

One woman is practicing sit-ups on the floor, another is calmly making salad and apple crisp.  There is pee on the floor, an infant is about to fall down the stairs and another little girl is pounding on the piano.  There are toys everywhere.

Unable to move, I have my head down on the table, with blurred vision, a swollen face and a wet cloth over my left eye, watching the sit-ups.  I feel drunk, mugged, and extremely hungry. There is a green paper ticket close by, slightly damp, and accusing.

*****

Sometimes a think there is a drama fairy following me around, sprinkling pixie dust over me at her leisure, or perhaps a ridiculous fairy touching me with her wand.  Why can't it just be the tooth fairy giving me random quarters under my pillow? Of course, then I wouldn't have any teeth - and then she'd have a go at Mr. Man's.

With a life like mine, I have discovered how important it is to have a nurse as a BFF.  Whatever they learn in nursing school pours over into their everyday life.  Coping strategies include calmness during stressful situations, a straight face when you tell them something gross or tragic, and they are always, ALWAYS equipped with emergency kits and medicine - sometimes great tupperware containers full.

So have you guessed what happened?

No, I did not get mugged, and yes, a child peed on the floor.  Apparently, if you hang the kid upside down the pee will stop leaving the culprit's bladder. Did you know that? I guess they teach you that in nursing school.  But don't you dare use the wrong cloth to clean it up, as nurses have issues with germs.  (At least we didn't use the bum cloth on the kid's face.)

The sit-ups? Simple enough: my personal trainer. She's eager.  'nuff said.

The rest of the mess was any regular day in the life of three moms.  No surprises there.

So what happened to me?

I have an unpublished post tucked away about my driving skills and how awesome I am.  Yes, I know, a terrible lie, and subsequently, this is the day I get pulled over by the police.

Of course, I did what anyone would do: I bawled my eyes out.

I bawled on the side of the road, I bawled as I drove down the road, and bawled in my friend's driveway. By the time I got in the house, I looked like I'd been beat up. But that's not all.
Nothing compared to the stinging in my eyes a few minutes later.

Peanut butter.

I am not kidding.

And don't let nursey tell you otherwise. It WAS peanut butter. Nothing else has that effect on me.

Just as I had accepted my life as an outlaw, the fairies hit me again and I realize I've been poisoned.  My eye is swelling and then my lips, and once again I am reminded of the movie, Hitch, drinking antihistamine from a straw.  Nursey quickly gives me a large dose of liquid benadryl from her huge medicine bin and I moan and complain until the drugs hit me and I fall to the table.  The antidote works quickly but I am done over and unable to function.

At this point all havoc breaks out in the living room.  A kid is peeing on the floor, giving us that far off look of "I know I shouldn't do this but ah, such relief."  Plants are being pulled over, puzzle pieces are being thrown and the piano is giving out some loud sharps and flats.  The mothers are up and running and suddenly I am shaking, freezing and starving like any druggy would be when completely high.

As the fairies giggle in the background, the commotion settles, sit-ups are back in motion and I eat way more than allotted by my trainer.  And the heat is turned up until I stop shivering.

Throughout all of this, the trainer is laughing and the nurse calmly continues with our visit as if nothing has happened and I am not passed out on her table.

Mr. Man finds out and texts that I am not allowed to go over there again.

But somehow, he is not surprised.