When life gives you diarrhea filled lemons…

Last week our furnace broke, so we said ‘No Thanks’ to cooking dinner and decided to go out. Our 2.5 year old is not quite ready for primetime when it comes to dinning out, so we went to a buffet style restaurant. I will not say the name in fear they will sue or worse someone will try to make eye contact with me.

So my husband orders and I find a table in the back corner. Everything is going ok, until my daughter’s butt literally explodes. Like there was a sound of bomb, everyone ducked and diarrhea filled our lives and our booth.

My husband froze, his face is utter panic and  he just kept muttered “Omg, Omg, Omg.” I’m not always a take charge gal, but I knew immediately I would be taking the lead in this literal shit show. So I grab my daughter, take her to the bathroom, strip her down, perform an exorcism, and try to get as much poop off of her as possible. Meanwhile I size up the situation: I have no diapers, no wipes, and a single pair of 12-18 month pair of pants in the car. I figure this will do as her tiny butt could not possible have any more poop in it & we are very close to home.  I tell my husband to clean the booth and get the pants. I dress my daughter in too small pants, no shirt and a jacket. Then I know the tough part is coming: leaving.

I open the door ready to make the quickest get-away possible. My husband did not get this memo or has had a shame lobotomy because he has packed up the leftovers and is frantically shoving salmon salad in his mouth. This is where our midwest/northeast differences appear. He doesn’t understand that once a crime has been committed: you leave, as fast as possible. You don’t finish your salmon salad because salmon doesn’t keep well. So I whisper as harshly as I can: “We need to leave.”

He sees my face and grabs the leftovers. I swear I can hear people whisper/chanting “Shame, Shame, Shame.” as we leave…

So this was a D-A-Y but that’s OK. Life will give you some diarrhea filled lemons sometimes. In the end know that I am lucky: we could fix the furnace, we could (eventually) laugh at our dinner and our daughter will return to having solid bowel movements soon.

You want the Truth. You can’t handle the Truth.

Devin: “Where are the marshmallows? We had a ton.”

Me: “We made some candy cars with them.”

Devin: “No. We had a ton. Even after that.”

Me: “Sweetie….. I need you to let this go.”

Devin: “I just don’t understand.”


Devin: “It’s just weird….”

Me: “The marshmallows were eaten at a massive and grostque amount by both your wife and your children.”

Devin: “……..Oh.”

Me: “It didn’t need to be said, you have no one to blame but yourself.”



I could never be a Stay-at-home-mom

Obviously, not true as this is my current occupation. I know some people will roll their eyes as I use the word “occupation”. I’m sure I did before I knew the effort it takes to do keep two kids under the age of 4 alive. Not even the effort to be a good mom, just to be a: I-fed-my-kids-and-I-have-a-general-idea-of-where-they-are-mom.

I grew up with a mom who was a working mom and saw her as a champion & always assumed that I would do the same. But making the decision about work/childcare & what’s right for you and your family is a highly sensitive, financial, & personal decision. There is not right or wrong; only what works for you and your family.

That said, I see the shade. The “I could never” “I would be so bored”  and I try not to get offended.  I understand the need for people to defend their lifestyle choices and I try not to get overly sensitive about things. I strive to emulate RuPaul as he once said,  “Nothing offends me but intentional cruelty and extreme poverty.” And yes, my moral compass is mostly guided by RuPaul, Andy Cohen and Judge Judy.  Anyways, whatever choice someone makes about work and childcare is obviously the right one. For them.

What gets my goat is that a woman can never really do the “right” thing.  It’s unfair and pits woman against each other. For example: I have a friend who currently stays home with her kids. She’s an amazing mother and also a former Olympian. YET she still had someone say to her recently, “I wish I knew you when you were ambitious…” This annoyed me to no end. The idea that a woman’s prior success could be held against her in order to make another woman (a working mom) feel better about herself is INSANE.

Luckily, in contrast to my uber-successful friend, I am in no danger of being bizarrely criticized for my overly ambitious past. For example, for YEARS my parents kept a report card of me ALMOST making the honor roll in 11th grade: it had both a C plus and an incomplete (excessive tardiness) yet my parents were so proud of my efforts that it stayed on the fridge for a full decade.

I get it, we live in a culture that our “work” defines us. It’s the first question that gets asked at a party and I see the light go out of some people’s eyes when I say I’m a SAHM. The next question is usually about when I’m going back to work. It’s way more culturally acceptable to be a SAHM when they can factor in that I’m saving money through daycare. My value can still be assessed in some monetary way. Fine, whatever, I know my worth and it’s not the cost of two kids in day care. I also know I have limited control how other’s perceive me, so it’s best just to keep moving.

Though I did make my husband promise if I were to die in the next few years to have my obit read simply: Deirdre Londergan: Unemployed at the time of her passing. No mention of being a “loving mother & wife” “college graduate” (barely) or any other hoopla about my life. Just simply my employment status.

I also want my gravestone to read: Deirdre Londergan. UNEMPLOYED.