Hemmorrhoids, Shemorroids!!!

I walked out of the bathroom the other day, with the most recent issue of People under my arm. I placed the magazine back on the table near where My Hot Bride was sitting.

"Did you see Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter?"

"Yeah…"

I start to walk away..

"I don't like it when you read in the bathroom."

"Why the heck not?!?!?"

"Because you could be reading out here.."

"I don't have time to read out here. There's no way in the world that I could get through the table of contents without being disturbed out here."

It's true. And not just for reading. I've actually timed how long I actually get to sit down before standing up again. The average is sixteen seconds. Usual requests are refills of sippy cups, opening the bathroom door, diaper changes, breaking up fights, getting the baby from the entry hall, finding the pacifier, searching for this, administering that. It's insane!!

As I look at My Hot Bride with not a care in the world. Probably documenting all this for an upcoming blog she plans to unveil or something.

I've had to force myself to wake up sometimes as early as 4:30am just so I can get a few personal things done. This is the time, I have the quiet to read my bible or catch up on my reader feeds. Reading about the latest Jon and Kate gossip is not important enough to read at this time.

Lately, it's been harder to listen to the alarm when it goes off early in the morning. So the only time I have to do any form of brain stimulation, is in the crapper.

I tell her I need to be able to read something while in there. If I haven't brought a comic, magazine, (usually an Entertainment Weekly or Baths and Kitchens) or book; I usually end up reading the back of a Pantene Hair Spray Bottle.

You know during consecutive visits to the crapper, I was able to read the first two books of the Narnia Series. I started the third book, but lost interest pretty quick. I also sometimes take the laptop.

Can it cause hemorrhoids? I've heard it can. But sometimes I believe that they would be worth it, just for the three to eight minutes a day that I can escape from the sippy cups, door knobs, diaper changes, and fights.