Thursday, October 02, 2008
Not sure if Mom or Dad built this one. Mom has built at least one, making her the only Mom in this conversation who has, I would say.
Being a household with three small children, the conversation here often revolves around poo. It cannot be helped.
A newborn baby poos a dozen times a day or so. (I told an Irish friend this just as he was about to become a father for the first time this summer. He had no idea. He thought it was a few times a day. I think the news made him shit his pants.) The boy, who is almost three, is working on training. He can do it and has done it but for the most part he just is not inclined. He likes to take a big crap right before bed and usually as I'm wiping him clean and asking him why he just doesn't go in the toilet his answer is hysterical laughter.
Two nights ago we were at swimming lessons for my oldest and the boy and I were watching. He had had his evening dump an hour before when all of a sudden a familiar odour began to waft amongst the spectators. I took a look and saw that at this point there was nothing going on. I asked if something was coming soon and he affirmed that he might soon have to go. I emphasized that there was a bathroom RIGHT THERE and to let me know when the time came. He agreed.
A couple of minutes later he leaned against the wall like a rummy about to throw up in an alleyway. (Kids will use anything as a grip bar. Once my daughter grabbed on to the dog and held on for dear life while she shat herself and he was further discouraged as to what his life had become. His ancestors used to hunt mammoths likely and here he was being used as a toddler's crap aid.) His face turned a bright red and then that passed, among other things. As the familiar stink overwhelmed us I realized that I still have to change another thousand diapers or so (that's just me, never mind my sainted wife) before I could take what had better be a long break until the grandchildren begin to arrive.
And then there is my eldest daughter. She hasn't crapped her pants in quite a while now but she is in kindergarten where poo is the centre of humour and often, most conversation. She will often roar down the stairs to demand that we check out her latest production "The Hugest Poo Ever" or its sequel "The Biggest Poo I Ever Saw" And there was the time last winter when I was preparing dinner for the kids, only to be interrupted by her frantic screaming. I rushed upstairs to find that she had gotten stuck, so to speak.
How much do I love my kids? Enough to resolve the above situation manually, lets just say. I didn't wrestle that alligator barehanded but lets just say it was an awful enough situation that I have blocked out most if it from my memory right down to the coverage I used on the tool of extraction. That tool being my finger.
One more thing. My daughter, like me, has an interesting little quirk. Entering another person's home seems to trigger something down there and soon enough its off to the races. Don't know what it is. I'd say nerves (I always take a big one at the arena right before I get dressed to play hockey) except neither of us are the nervous type and this happens with folks who I've known forever.
It doesn't really matter for the most part although one time the repercussions may have been ugly. It was the summer I spent in PEI and I had just started dating the woman who is now my wife. We'd just spent the day at the beach or something and had retired to her house before going out. We were downstairs when all of a sudden I felt that familiar stirring and excused myself.
I'm not one to waste time when I get down to it so a few minutes later I was done. It wasn't a huge deal, just a regular, and so when I flushed I had no reason to foresee what was about to happen.
There was the usual gurgling and whooshing and then when it was all over, nothing. Still my remains remained. So, I waited a minute and then gave it a whirl again. Once again, nothing.
Her folks' house wasn't on city water at the time so it turns out the water pressure was shit, so to speak. Again and again I flushed, each one sounding like the roar of Niagara Falls in my ears, with me going over them in a barrel constructed of feces.
At this point panic started to set in. Options are limited when it comes to crap. Its not a snot rag which you can carry around with impunity or even a condom which you can smuggle out (or carry like a hidden trophy) after a quick tryst away from the crowd. No sir, there's no way you can wrap up a piece of shit in a kleenex and try and make a break for it. For a moment I thought about plucking it and firing it out of the bathroom window but I imagined a neighbour marching over to point out to my new girlfriend that I was flinging crap out of her parents' window like I was some sort of Barbary Ape.
I could see it all receding away from me - the wife, the house, the kids, the times, good and bad - and then ... victory! Finally my little log floated away down river, though it was sans logroller at the time.
I emerged from the scene of my great trail flush with victory and celebrated with a night of drinking and sex, the likes of which had never been seen.
(Actually years later I told the story to my wife - she had no idea that this happened. I think she may have been outside having a cigarette. Which makes that last successful flush that much more meaningful - she may have witnessed my desperate toss and how would I have explained that?!?!?)
So, what does that have to do with the Edmonton Oilers? Fuck all really. Same as that 4-0 loss the other night to some of the Flames. Same as the loss the Flames had to the Canucks a couple of nights later. How much stock the coach put into the game against Calgary can be determined by the fact that he gave the team the weekend before the game off. After the game he noted that it was time for the veterans to begin to gear up with the season now under two weeks away and I am sure that we see this begin to happen.
Hemsky and Horcoff and Cole and Gilbert and Grebs and Visnovsky and every other veteran on the team have not stepped off of the cliff. Gagner and Cogliano and Nilsson needn't be sent to Springfield, as somebody suggested the other night. If you could fucking imagine.
The game did not matter. They don't matter. They charge money to see these games but they should let people in to see them for free because that is approximately what you can take from the majority of them.
There are a lot of reasons to worry about the Oilers this season although I tend to agree with Lowetide and see them finishing second or third in the division. They have more depth then anyone else in the division although it would be nice if they had a shutdown Dman (or two) and a centre for the Pisani line. Goaltending may be an issue although I think they will be ok.
A real reason to worry? If, like my daughter and I, they take a big shit on the road - with twelve of their first fifteen out there, they could dig a big hole early.
A 4-0 loss to Calgary in September. Pass on the worry. Now excuse me while I go change another diaper.
Posted by Black Dog at 3:36 PM