It Was a Slam Dunk.

Dear Diary, 

     I wouldn't say I'm the worst at sports, but let's just say I never made a school team. However, today, I pulled a Michael Jordan move that almost cost me a whole lotta money. 

     My son has a nasty habit of hopping in the bathtub as it's filling with water, then doing a little dancey-dance before admitting he has to go potty. I sit on the toilet lid when I give them baths, so obviously I get up when he needs to do his business. Today, I decided to bring my phone into the bathroom so I could dink around on Instagram as the kids played (bad idea). When he finished going, my phone turned into a slippery fish and fell into the urine-filled water below. My eyes nearly bulged out of my head as I saw myself in an Instagram picture staring back at me through that yellow water, as if yelling, "HELP" as I was screaming, "Ah!" * "Ah!" * "Ah!" in return. Frantic, I tossed it into the sink like a hot potato and began to turn on the faucet to rinse off the pee. Then my rational self reminded my irrational self that THAT WAS NOT GOING TO FIX THE PROBLEM. I quickly dried it with a towel and began ripping off that trusty old Otter Box. To my surprise and delight, my phone worked. I began to breathe easy. But my husband was sure to comment on my less-than-stellar track record of dropping cell phones in urine infested waters. Two years ago, we were moving from Texas to Georgia. We'd made it to Odessa and stopped at a McDonald's when I had to use the restroom. My Blackberry was in the back pocket of my jeans, so when I pulled down my pants, the pocket flipped upside down and PLOP went my phone. Needless to say, the last 16.5 hours of driving were spent making hand signals out my SUV window to my husband who was driving a huge rental truck and pulling my small car behind it in a trailer. Eventually, my phone came back alive and all was right in the world. 

     But tonight, in that frantic moment while removing my phone from the toilet, I immediately (mentally) blamed my cute little toddler for having to relieve his bladder. Then I blamed Instagram instead, for being so addicting. Then the even more irrational blaming ensued and I had to cut off my thoughts. Ah, being a mother is great. But it has, at times, made me a bit crazy. 

Sincerely, 

Me.