Monday morning quickly trying to rid my body of a busy weekend’s grime and an aggressive knock is heard at the door.

Shakey: What are you doing on the side?

Me: [thinking to myself] What? I only use the vibrator when you’re not available.

Me: huh?

Shakey: I just went to get money from your wallet and there’s a ton of cash in there.

Me: Yeah, I was dancing. [eye roll] The Smith family paid me in cash for the fanwear (for little league, not MY fans).

Me: [again to myself] Sheesh! He of anyone should know my blow jobs cost WAY more than that.

Mr. Five getting dressed this morning.

{loud burp erupts}

{to himself} “Hmmm. I didn’t see that coming.”

This post made me cry harder than I ever have reading others’ blogs. It may be one of the saddest, yet most beautiful pieces of writing, because it is so clearly straight from this mother’s gut.

The sheer number of comments reminds me how wonderful the citizens of the blogosphere can be.

I am sure Liam is now a brilliant star.

My youngest son is asleep in HIS bed.

Sound asleep.

In a Batman costume.

Don’t start your email with, “Hello Mommy Blogger!”

Sorry, but I’m going to respond to you in the same way I did the bow-heads in highschool who asked me in excited, high-pitched voices if I was going to try out for cheerleading too.

{laughing AT them as she walked away}

I may have the right clothes, I may drive the right car but I have much more fun in the parking lot than at the game.

I am a mommy. I blog. It doesn’t mean I’m going to hock your baby goods site for free.

{excited and high-pitched} Good luck with the try-outs though. {waving with her middle finger}

I’m a big fan, but I hate those little kernal skins that get stuck in your gums.

Is it my imagination or is the microwave variety worse in this area?

…but this pisses me off.

Paris Hilton has been released from prison and is serving the rest of her sentence under house arrest.

OMFG!!!

Sources are citing “medical” conditions for this development.

What?! What could it possibly be that demanded house arrest?

I was thinking maybe constipation or having to pee in front of others.

Wait!

Those are the same things that happened to me after birth. Oh yeah! And, I didn’t leave the house for a while either.

Sorry for the interruption. Move along. OF COURSE that’s the appropriate manner to deal with those “conditions” (and my shit comes out in baggies).

House arrest should help her get better. I mean I didn’t have the maids, butlers, goose feather pillows or cooks, but I like to rough it like that.

I’ve been low on post ideas, hence my infrequent visits to your reader, however the mighty Blog Goddess saw fit to bless me with an event last night that just demanded to be blogged.

We’re wrapping up the Little League regular season here in VA. Now Mamma Loves baseball, but it does mean that I visit the ball fields 4-5 times a week with our two players.

The thing about the ball fields you see is that when nature calls a woman has few options.

I did give that bottle of water a second thought before I took it out of the refrigerator at work to drink on the way to the game. I did weigh the possibility of having to use the dreaded Don’s John. But I was thirsty.

Some time in the bottom of the second inning I couldn’t wait. It was time to brave the Bacteria Bin.

The lights were on at the field and when I got inside and closed the door I realized it was really dark inside that potty. I was wearing my work clothes and I was a bit concerned about my pants touching the floor, so I hitched them before pulling them down from my waist.

You know I totally squatted cause there ain’t no way any part of me is touching any of this latrine. Everything was going well. Pants hiked up. Perfect squatting position achieved and bladder emptying.

Then I tried to maneuver for some toilet paper–while I maintained my position.

What happened next was all such a blur. I guess I lost my balance. Next thing I know pee is ricocheting off the toilet and spraying the backs of my legs and running down my ankles. I couldn’t make it stop. I couldn’t readjust. I couldn’t keep the pants up, the squat maintained and find the target. I was frantic. And I was covered in pee!

And it was only the second inning. And it was humid.

I managed to blot out most of the dripping parts (mostly the hem of my pants) and luckily the pants were black and so the wetness was not noticeable. I hurried to my car just to collect my thoughts. I could go home and change, but it was a tournament game and how was I supposed to explain my running off to change. Besides, us baseball parents? We’re weird and superstitious. The team always wins when I’m in my work clothes. I couldn’t change.

The pants weren’t as bad as I first thought, so I made my way back to the game. I am happy to report that Mr. 10’s team won and will continue on in the tournament. I’m also pretty sure I’m the only one who noticed that I smelled like a Port-O-Potty (remember the humidity?). It’s that or the other parents on the team just have really nice manners.

She was the temporarily single mom of theree boys. Not all of them were in school, yet none of them napped any longer. And it was a holiday weekend.

As she stepped into the shower on Tuesday, she couldn’t recall if she had managed to squeeze one in since her amazingly wonderul saint of a husband (because he eventually returned) had left in the dawning light of Friday morning.

She was gross.

She could remember haircuts for all the boys, a trip to Sephora with all the boys (stupid, stupid woman), baseball games, baseball practices, trips to the grocery store, hours at the pool and cleaning, but she couldn’t remember a shower.

It must not have occured (gross).

When she massaged the shampoo into her hair no suds formed. “Yeah, that’s dirty,” she thought. Another glob of shampoo and the thoughts too soon washed away as she enjoyed the warm water.

And the quiet.

And being alone.

And being clean.

CRASH! The bathroom door slams open. “Hi Mom!” Well that seven minutes of silence is over.

As she toweled off she considered the options for greeting her husband upon his return that evening. She narrowed it down to two.

1. Immediately drop to her knees and give him the best blow job of gratitude she could muster.

or

2. Greet him with a big hug and a kiss and never let on that he really could do ANYTHING as long as he never permanently left her by herself with three young boys.

She figured #2 was the smarter option, since she’d needed to maintain some leverage. But he did get some play the next morning.

********************************************

I bend to my knees in pious admiration to all of you single parents, though I won’t be including oral sex with it.

Sorry.

There is just a little over eight weeks until BlogHer 2007. I will be going to Chicago, sans kiddos, to tear up the town. The lovely Canape and I will be sharing a room, so I’ll have a place to hide when I just can’t shake Jessica (she swears she’s going to stalk me, but we all know she won’t be able to see me over the crowds that will surround her wherever she goes).

Anyway, the reason I’m so excited to be going (besides the fact that Canape is going to do my make-up) is the opportunity I’m going to have to meet in person (I hope) many of the incredible women I’ve gotten to know over the past ten months or so of blogging. They’ve made me laugh, cry, snort, think, recoil in horror, sing a song and cheer.

I know a trip to Chicago may not be in the budget for everyone, and if this is the case with you I want you to know how much you’ll be missed. There are still others that I know would like to go but might not have a spouse that understands how important this conference is to them (shout out to Shakey for being incredibly understanding on this point). For this reason, I’m starting a petition.

See, I want to see Janet there.

Mr. Wonder Mom needs to know just how important blogging is to his wife, what an amazing network of women you are and how many of us want to meet his magnificent wife (why should he get to keep her all to himself?). So please add your name to this petition by leaving a comment to this post. And if you need us to get a petition started for you, just send me an email.

What are you waiting for? Read the statement and get commenting already!

We, the undersigned, think Janet aka Wonder Mom is indeed wonderful and we would grately appreciate the opportunity to spend time with her in Chicago at the BlogHer conference. Please find a way to make it possible for her to attend. You don’t want an army of crazy bloggers after you now, do you?

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Signed,
The Women of the Blogoverse