Before I begin to rant and generally let off steam let me introduce myself. I have no plans to publicise the blog so if you have found your way here, welcome.
I am a 50something Mum with a chronically ill adult daughter requiring me to be a full time carer, I am sure more information will come over the period of the blog but suffice to say she became ill when she was 17 and went from being a highly independent, active, academic child to being practically bedbound. She deals with it as well as anyone could but its not easy for either of us.
I also have a son who has just started Uni in London. He is having a ball and seems to be doing well. I am so pleased at least one of my children is doing the what he should and leaving home!
I also have a foster child...pretty much adopted as we have had him 10 years and he will stay permanently as he is unlikely to ever be independent...incredibly crap parenting in his early life has left him damaged in many ways. In spite of all that he is an active child who loves sport and has a life enhancing smile. I wouldn't want him to change, though we would all be happier if he could control his behaviour but he thinks, and says, I look beautiful in my painting clothes...what's not to love!
I also have a partner, there is not much to say to introduce him as he will only feature as a rant. He was fine when we first got together but has become a complete prat. I did start ranting about him at this point but decided it could go on for a while and would be better left for another time.
In case you are wondering about the name of the blog let me explain. Obviously life is full of sh*t and there are days I feel we come in for more than our fair share. The other reason is an often expressed complaint by me over the working of my body. You would think after over 50 years my body would know that if I have a size 8 arse its no point producing a size 10 shit and expecting me to squeeze it out without swearing! I also want to know why my body feels shits should come with corners...it seems a strange design to me.
I am find it annoying that on days I am particularly busy my shit decide to play at being shy! I will be overcome by a gripping urge to dash to the loo, I'm well trained and comply only for my shit to decide its now in no rush and 20 minutes later is still thinking about whether it wants to come out of hiding. I then give up and go back to whatever I was doing only to have the same process repeated until the shit, invariably a rabbit dropping, condescends to emerge.
I can also wax lyrical about the delights of piles which bleed and fill the toilet with a dramatic amount of blood...that much blood really wants to be admired by a wider audience than just me but no one is going come and admire a toilet bowl full of blood. The best was a fart with a bleeding pile which left a scattering of tiny drops of blood all over the toilet...the sort of effect you see on TV when someone has been murdered in a particularly dramatic way...but totally wasted as no one wants to admire the artistic way the blood had been scattered.
Anyway, assuming you have managed to read so far without leaving in disgust, you now know why the blog got its name and also why I am needing to resort to blog to express myself.
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