Bob of If I Die Before I
Wake has invited nine journallers to participate in a Cyber Survivor Adventure.
Every couple of weeks, the group will be issued a
"challenge entry". The site will post a excerpt from the challenge entries, as
well as the link to the complete entry found on the journaller's own journal site.
After the challenge entry is posted, the nine journallers will vote one of the writers off
The "ousted" journaller will actually remain on the site, but rather than
posting further challenge entries, they will act as a judge and commentator.
The first challenge entry has been issued, and can be found at the Survivor Journal
website. The actual entries should be completed by
October 1, 2000.
Please take the time to visit, especially once the challenge entries are posted. There is
a message board to post your thoughts/comments and also a instant poll where visitors can
vote for who they would want to see kicked off the site.
The reasons behind Survivor Journals are simple.
1. To try something new.
2. Increase the interaction of the journal community.
3. The challenge.
4. Increased exposure to all journals involved.
So take a look around, explore all the journals involved.
If you would like to take part in Survivor Journals, Year Two (around Nov/Dec 2000), let
HAVE TO GO POTTY
November 12, 2000
When you are raising children, you spend a lot of time
thinking about the bathroom. Once the kid gets out of diapers, its amazing how much
energy is spent in and around the bathroom. I was reading back over a couple of entries in
my journal from when all of our children were little and I thought it might be fun to
This one was called The Peep Doctor and was written when
we were taking one of the kids to the urologist:
Tom has had his appointment with "the peep doctor" and
another great trip can be recorded in the annals of "trips to Kaiser I have
made." David and Paul fell asleep on the ride to Sacramento. Paul woke up right when
we stopped, but David was just dead weight, so I carried his limp body around with me. We
got to Urology and I plopped snoring David onto a couch and registered Tom. The nurse told
me to go and have Tom give a urine specimen. I told Paul to stay with David (the bathrooms
were in the waiting room, but naturally behind doors). I went into the bathroom with Tom
and remembered that I left my purse outside, so leaned out to get it before getting the
cup for Tom's specimen...in the meantime, Tom is peeing into the toilet, very proud of
himself! I screamed "STOP!" and hurried to get a cup to catch any residue, but
we were too late. We talked water for a long while and Tom finally produced about
1/8" in the bottom of the cup and called it quits.
Tom and I came out of the ladies' room and Paul decided he wanted
to go into the men's room. The room at this point was virtually empty except for an old
lady who had a shortwave radio and was trying to tune into the TV channels so she could
hear her favorite soap opera. By now it was after 1, so office hours were starting again
and people began coming, each one with their little slips of paper waiting in line for
Paul to get out of the bathroom. I could hear him singing and talking to himself, but I
pretended I didn't know who he was. Then he started yelling to Tom... "Tom? You out
there?" "Tom? Is Mommy there too?" "Tom? Did Mommy leave yet?"
(to which a man standing in line shouted, "No, she didn't!") Then, "Tom?
I'll be out as soon as I get the poop out of my bottom." (All this SHOUTED across a
now-crowded waiting room!) When he yelled, "Ooops, I need more toilet paper for all
this poop, Tom." I decided I had to admit he was mine, and I knocked on the door.
When he opened it up, I marched in (to the men's room) and pulled up his pants and tried
to gracefully usher him past the long line of men with their little slips of paper in
their hands. He started crying, "But there's still poop in my bottom" and
refused to sit in a chair. He would only writhe on the floor and scream, "I can't
stand all this poop in my bottom!" At that point, I was ready to flush both of us
down the nearest toilet, but there were still too many people waiting in line to get in!
Through all of this, David still snored peacefully, though by now
we were occupying three chairs (David's body) and a good portion of the floor, since both
Tom and Paul were now lying on it and writhing. They finally took pity on us and called us
for our appointment. David, still limp, was carried into the examination room and I put
him on the examining table along with Tom.
And this entry was written about an abortive evening I spent with
the kids in a local restaurant:
Paul was feeling a bit left out yesterday because Ned was off on
a camping trip and Jeri was at her Brownie Overnight. To help make things special for the
other three, I took them to Sambo's for dinner. Things went pretty well for most of the
event. They all decided on waffles or pancakes and despite the huge portions they all made
a considerable dent in the meal.
Things started to go wrong when I OK'd a trip to the bathroom.
Paul was looking a little yellow about the eyes and threatening to do something very
embarrassing if we didn't find a room soon and Tom was yelling (yes, yelling) "I have
to go POOP!" with David trailing along behind sing-songing "poopies, poopies,
poopies." Well, so much for the ol' image.
The bad thing about having a kid old enough to read
"m-e-n" and "w-o-m-e-n" is that they become quit indignant about
suggestions that they visit the wrong room. That was still OK. We determined that Paul
would indeed be able to open the door again after he went in and I went to pay the bill.
One thing in Sambo's credit is that restrooms are behind a door which says
"restroom" and then the individual doors are hidden from the general public. As
I stood there at the cash register, the unmistakable and ominous sound of loud giggling
came to my ears. I paid my money and retreated behind the "restroom" door to
hiss "get out of there!" at the door to the men's room. David at this point
discovered that he could open the door and went in to join the boys, whereupon Tom began
to scream "David!" at top volume (David had crawled under the john door and was
pestering him). I whispered louder, "get OUT of there!" and Tom yelled back at
top volume, "But, Mom, I'm going POOP!" I grabbed Paul and told him to at least
get David and all started to go outside to wait for Tom, who began to scream, "Don't
leave me!" At this point I gave up proprieties and entered the forbidden men's room
to pull Tom, pants still off, out the door.
Paul was yelling, "Hey! David went peep in his pants,"
the toilet was filled with sombody's poop (I assumed Tom's) and I had to make another trip
back in to flush it. Somewhere in the middle of this melee, the waitress came running in
to find us and give us Winnie the Pooh, who had decided to stay behind and finish our
After the bathroom experience, I wanted to retreat as gracefully
as possible under the circumstances, but first had to pry David's fingers off the front
door of the restaurant, as he was chinning himself on the bar.
How DID I do it?