Birthday probe

Nearly one month ago was my mom's 2nd 26th birthday. As usual there was dining out, gifts and cards to be enjoyed by her. When you have had to raise three awesome and crazy kids and one husband who needs to be raised right along with them, you pretty much deserve an awesome birthday each year.

My mom's health insurance company thought so too.

I came downstairs this morning to find a "happy birthday" of sorts sitting on the kitchen counter from Kaiser Permanente. I saw the words "Happy birthday" and "birthday month" which of course made me think "wow, what a cool insurance company". Then I saw the true reason for the festive correspondence.


Wow. What a way to poop on your birthday month. What a way to ruin all the joy and festivities you enjoyed.

I had toyed around with scanning the document in and posting it here since it really would have made your day, however there is this little federal law called HIPAA which tends to ruin fun things like leakage of personal protected health information. Whatever.

I then thought back to other fun things that have happened on peoples birthdays. Including my last birthday.

It was the first birthday I had spent with Mr. Hot Pilot and Munchkin. I was down in Texas enjoying what seemed to be a somewhat normal afternoon. Normal that is until Munchkin decided it was time for his daily constitutional, and by constitutional I mean losing half his body weight down a plumbing-challenged toilet. I heard the multiple flushes but didn't really think anything of it. It wasn't until I heard the little voice calling "Daddy? I need help..." that I thought maybe something might be up.

Then I heard Mr. Hot Pilot yell as though he saw a poop monster half eating our little Munchkin.

I stayed put. I'm no dummy.

Apparently my sitting perfectly still on the couch, not so much as BREATHING didn't do much for hiding myself. I should have jumped in the car and headed to Wal-Mart (no where else to run to really). Mr. Hot Pilot promptly sent Munchkin to his room and asked me if I might come and assist him in cleaning up a mess. A poop mess. (There seems to be a theme of poop going on here in my posts...I should look into that).

I walked into the main bathroom and there before me was a sea of toilet water flowing into the tub room, around the bend into the master bathroom and directly into the master bedroom. Sweet. Mr. Hot Pilot then proceeded to pull every towel, blanket and comforter out of rooms and closets to sop up the mess. I sort of stood there for a second and did the only thing I could possibly do.

I laughed my birthday booty off. Seriously, grow up in my family and anything having to do with a bodily function will elicit that exact reaction.

For the next hour or so we mopped and sopped while Munchkin was keeping watch of things from underneath his bedroom door. Every so often I'd see part of a Transformer or a little 6 year old finger poke out below as if to remind us he was still in captivity.

Finally we called maintenance to come in with an industrial poop sucker-upper (aka- a wet/dry vac) and pretty soon all was well. Munchkin was sprung from his prison and I was left with the question by Mr. Hot Pilot

"So what are you making us for dinner tonight?".

Happy birthday.

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