It Happened During the Witching Hour

**Some Confessions**

• I have a friend whose husband gets off work around 3:00 every day. I pass her house on the way to pick up my son from school, often catching a glimpse of her husband arriving home for the day causing fiery darts of jealousy to shoot from my eyes. I can't help but think about how much easier my life would be if my husband came home that early (which is not to say that I think my friend has it easier than I do - I would just really love for my husband to come home at 3:00).

• Every day at around 4:00 in the afternoon, all hell breaks loose in my home. The baby is tired but won't nap so she screams and clings to my legs. Everyone is hungry. Nicky needs to do his homework and practice the piano. The house is always a disaster - to the point of being unsanitary. And I am literally walking on egg shells. Because there are often egg shells smashed on the floor (this is a Daisy thing - don't even get me started...) It truly is... THE WITCHING HOUR.

**A Tale**

The tale I am about to tell is nothing unusual. Things like this happen at my house on a daily, nay, hourly basis. Usually I do not blog such tales because I'm too busy cleaning up the mess to sit down and type out the story. This time, though, I just need to let it all out.

Yesterday at the start of THE WITCHING HOUR {insert wailing sound effect here} I was met by an unfortunate toilet circumstance.

{Yep, this is a poop story. Look away now, ye weak of stomach}

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Nicky went downstairs to use the bathroom and started yelling, "Something is wrong!!!"

I went down there and was immediately met with a horrible odor and the sight of a very large amount of unflushable poo in the toilet bowl.

Did you catch that?

Poo that WOULD.NOT.FLUSH.

Ugh!!!

There it sat, refusing to release from the bowl - like my kid had digested a heavy-duty adhesive or something.

(I should interject that this was not Nicky's doing. He was just the poor soul who found it).

I flushed the toilet a few times hoping that the problem would solve itself, but it didn't. In fact, it got worse because the toilet became clogged, leading me to believe that the culprit must have flushed massive amounts of toilet paper down the toilet.

Thus, a plunger was needed.

So I plunged.

In a toilet full of poo.

Adding to the unsanitary nature of my home at 4:00 in the afternoon.

I must be a very powerful plunger because I managed to break the handle off.

Uh... oops?

Then, after the toilet became unclogged, I still had to deal with the poo.

You don't wanna know.

You.

Don't.

Wanna know...

I had to do a lot of cleaning - the toilet, of course, but there was also the floor, the walls, and the bathtub. And then there was the whole "dealing with the dripping, poopy plunger" thing.

All of this while the baby cried and kept trying to come into the bathroom, and Daisy emptied the pantry looking for food (oh, that child and her constant out-of-control snacking!!), and I was supposed to be cooking dinner for a friend.

Which leads me to the announcement of a new house rule:

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Rule #42: No one is allowed to poop after 12 p.m.

There can't be poop during the WITCHING HOUR. There just can't! There's too much other crap to deal with!

There are so many details I had to leave out, but thank you for letting me get that off my chest. I will now return to not blogging about poo until further notice.