Don't Say I Didn't Warn You

So, there's been a ton of stuff going on around here but I made a promise. And I just can't bring myself to break it by revealing all the other mundane nonsense before letting you in on the hideousness that took this family by storm last week.

Worms.

Not in the garden.

Not in the driveway.

In my kid's poop.

If your gag reflex has set in, you might want to close out. If you are either a) intrigued (because you are sick) or b) want to feel better about the hygiene level in your home as opposed to mine, read on.

Last Tuesday night, my brother, Kevin, and his new girlfriend, Leigh, came to my house for dinner, along with my grandparents and mom. We had an amazing evening...that culminated with Kevin and Leigh reading the girls their story and tucking them in to bed. I thought it would be an easy, pleasant bedtime...until Meghan started complaining of perineal pain, for lack of a better description. Nothing seemed overly irritated or red, so I put some hydrocortisone on her "area," gave her some Benadryl (my drug of choice as of late) and sent her to bed.

Fast-forward to the middle of the night, when she's up, crying hysterically because of the pain and because she had wet the bed. (God, and daughters, forgive me years from now when I sorely regret posting this stuff on the Internet. I digress...) Again, having no clue what was wrong with her, I was able to get her settled and back to bed.

The next day, Meg is still complaining, so I convince her to go into the bathroom to try to get a good "wipe" and make sure all systems are go.

Oh. Dear. Lord.

I'll summarize the next part by saying that it ended with me holding a baggie and a a pair of BBQ tongs (that were immediately thrown away), fishing samples of matter out of the toilet bowl that had previously been excreted from my daughter's backside to take to the pediatrician.

Needless to say, in all of her digging in the garden, hunting for worms, she'd made them her own. The doctor, thank heavens, was so nonchalant about the whole thing. He said it was super common at this time of year, especially for allergy sufferers (which she is), because they dig and they get stuff on their hands, and then they wipe their faces because of the itchies and the rest becomes history. But seriously, did I ever expect, in all my years, to be removing worms from my daughter's backside?

Nope. A big, fat, resounding nope.

So, if you have no children...keep this in mind. Because at some point, there will be something ridiculous that will happen, that will have you shaking your head, wondering, "How in the hell did I get here?"

And the answer might wind up being as simple as: "I let my kid innocently dig for worms in the garden."

And now, you can feel better about your life because you most likely didn't have to do what I had to do last week.