Only once in my entire experience with alcohol have I had an all day hangover the next day. Sure, i’ve spent entire nights puking and shaking and passing out on bathroom floors. I’ve woken up in unfamiliar places, usually missing my shoes; but usually the next day, after consuming some incredibly greasy and disgusting food, I feel just fine. An iron stomach, if you will.
Since popping my two crotch blossoms out, things have changed… for the worse. I’d love to be able to blame this on them when they are asshole teenagers, as it’s always good to have an arsenal on hand, but unfortunately I can’t. I blame my stomach. Or maybe the fact that I am just far too old to be drinking my face off, but after days worth of shrieking, slapping, biting, and tantrums- mama needs a stiff drink every now and then.
I have come to anticipate and even expect the harsh punishment that will be forced upon me the day after drinking… and while at the time of consumption, it seems like a FANTASTIC idea (doesn’t it always?) the next day I am always cursing myself and wondering why I put myself in this position; and ‘this position’ would be on the toilet.
Puking is by far my least favorite thing to do on the face of the earth, but shitting comes in at a close second these days. Especially angry stomach shits. ESPECIALLY alcohol induced angry stomach shits.
It doesn’t matter what I eat, how much or how little- you can put money on that directly after lunch my stomach will insist on emptying its contents. No matter where we are or what we’re doing, there damn well better be a bathroom close by- and I better not get too far from it or there will be hell to pay.
All I can think about is being in the car with my mom when I was about 14, rocking back and forth and screaming that I was going to shit myself if she didn’t PULL OVER RIGHT NOW AND LET ME GO!
No, I hadn’t been drinking, but it is always that same feeling of urgency and the worrying of crapping my pants in public that sticks in my mind.
One would think that with all of this shitting going on, that there would be an upside- because after having kids, once you eat, those stomach muscles just aren’t as strong as they used to be, so a normal “food baby” turns into “are you 6 months pregnant?”
Bloating goes to a WHOLE new level.
But if you spend the entire day crapping out your insides, the bloating should be minimalized, right? HAHA NO!
What an evil cruel joke to play on me, stomach! If you’re going to be a sour-faced bitch and have me shitting for 20 minutes after eating a cracker- you could at least cut me a break and let me look skinny.
Speaking of which… allow me to excuse myself now, I have a bathroom to blow up.
Every. Single. Time. pic.twitter.com/aAAWWjdrN3
I'm either "I HAVE 3 FRIES LEFT DON'T TOUCH MY PLATE!" or "Please take this so I can't eat any more of it!" There is no in-between.
Dear people writing articles on ways to get siblings to get along, I'll save you the time. The answer is "Don't let them play together"
Please stop Complimenting my kids’ “Good” Behavior goo.gl/fb/rwfojS
Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.