My Kids Ruined My Back Door. Again.

My back door is broken again.

And if by “back door” you think I mean the thing in my family room that opens up to the patio?

You’re wrong.

I mean my Asshole. My Asshole is broken.  Again.

It worked perfectly fine before I had kids.

Then they came along, did what kids do when they’re all growing in the uterine kiddie pool, and they broke it.

When pregnant with my son, he made my happy hiney hole swell and make sad faces.  Then I got pregnant with my daughter, who made me so ill I had to take Zofran the entire pregnancy.  Which means I pooped maybe 3 times in 9 months.  Guess what that does to one’s already tender tushie?

Nothing pretty. I’ll tell you that.

Earlier this year, I shared what it was like having the shock of my life recieving Hemorrhoidectomy #1 a couple years ago.

Spoiler alert: makes for amusing material now, but it was No Fun At All then.

[insert creepy haunted house music here]

I just made an appointment for Hemorrhoidectomy #2 on Friday.

[insert frowning, nervous expression here]

Which means this fiber-loving, veggie-eating, water-guzzing, coffee-slurping, former Ninja Pooper is going to get another piece of her asshole sliced & diced by some old dude in a white coat who looks into the darkest, saddest part of strangers’ undercarriages on a daily basis.

Which makes me think that my ass?  Is absolutely an example of Shit My Kids Ruined*.

*I love this site. Go visit and laugh. NOW.

I just don’t think they’d let me put a photo of the broken item on their Facebook page.

And I wouldn’t blame them one bit.

Sad, sad broken tushie.

My kids have written on the walls, cracked a tendon in my finger, dragged my once-perky boobs down to my knees, chipped away at my sanity, knocked my Coolness Factor down about 200 notches, scratched a hole in my eye, and inserted crumbs in every corner of my home.

But this?

This one deserves the Gold Medal in things they have ruined.

And the kicker of it all?  Is that they’re just friggin’ cute enough to get away with it.

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  1. says

    Yet one more way I feel connected to you, even if it is from an experience that no one should EVER have to suffer.

    I usually hate when someone tells me to count my blessings or thank my lucky stars for this, that or the other when all I want to do is bitch and vent about what’s wrong with life at that moment and could give a shit less about how things could be worse BUT I’m about to be one of “those” people. My turn for TMI:

    I’ll take your two hemorrhoidectomies, and raise you SEVEN surgeries to repair your asshole (which included, let’s just say, diversionary measures that required all sorts of attachments and was sincerely the most disgusting and embarrassing four months of my life.) My first-born literally ripped my ass apart. And just like Humpty Dumpty, no one seemed to be able to put my poor ass back together again. After the “diversion,” things finally healed properly so I could lead a somewhat normal pooping life again. I now get to attend “Butt University” every couple of years for physical therapy to ensure I don’t have to have a permanent “diversion” after I’m 50. My colorectal surgeon actually told me after this was all over, “Okay honey, now don’t let anyone back you in a corner, if you know what I mean. We may never get you fixed again if you decide to be adventurous.” I was also advised never to have another baby vaginally again, to which he sang, “C-Section, C-Section, RAH RAH RAH!” My ass doctor was actually pretty, well, badass and had an awesome sense of humor about what he did for a living.

    My final surgery was just last year (the birth which caused all this was in January 2006) and it was a hemorrhoidectomy. You’d think that as many times as my ass had been in a sling up to that point, they would have lopped those things off already, but no. While it wasn’t the most evasive of the surgeries I had had, it still sucked a bunch. Thankfully, I didn’t have to do that one twice. You definitely have my sincerest sympathies for having to suffer through it again. And also for that first dreaded trip to the facilities to move things along. One day, Kim. One day, we’ll pay these kids back. I’ve always said that after my son turns 18, when he least expects it, I’m going to kick him square in the ass. Hard. Just because.

    Good luck, girl. We’ll all be thinking of you….and your hiney. :)

    • says

      Oh. My. Shizzles.
      What a nightmare! I hope you’re doing okay now.
      I had to give birth to my son without painkillers, and it was no fun at all (I’ll spare the details). I already had that to hold over his head forever, so I’m adding the extra ass surgeries on top.
      Future guilt trips (or ass kicks), here we come!

  2. says

    So, I’m reading the first line like the dirty monkey I am and thinking, ha ha, that’s funny, she said “back door”! And I was totally PLANNING on making a joke about how “back door” means butt hole! And then I get to the part where you say this REALLY IS ABOUT YOUR BUTT HOLE!


    AND, you managed to make a post about your fucked up chocolate starfish FUNNY as hell. How’d you do that? Genius.

    To think I actually had the gaul to morn the time my kids melted my favorite vintage Fisher Price Little People (who looked just like Oprah) on a light bulb. Suddenly the contents of my Shit My Kids Ruined Box is rather inconsequential.

    Hope your fart box is feeling better, honey!

  3. says

    Yes my ass was very broken as well,took me weeks to poop properly.,i get you o the zofran was on the zofran pump until 33 or so about a whiny hiney!!!!

  4. says

    Holy crap (!). Ow. This is just so wrong. There has to be a better way to bear children. I can’t believe people do this willingly. Hope everything works out OK down there.

  5. says

    Bless your heart. I’m so sorry that you’ve had to deal with this twice, but your storytelling is epic levels of awesome, and the comments are worth reading all the way thru including your responses!!

  6. says

    Good Lord. I feel truly blessed that I wasn’t subjected to this particular form of body betrayal. I’m knocking on wood while I type this because I’m hoping number two will come along in the next year or so, and I don’t want to jinx myself. My mom had terrible varicose veins that she kindly passed on to a small section of my leg, and I’ve always been afraid those weak veins will make their way to a less forgiving area. Safe so far (fingers crossed).

    Hope your recovery is going OK now.

  7. says

    Oh can I relate to this one…my ass has never been the same since having my boys. Pushing out almost 10 lbs each time, no wonder. You know it’s bad when the nurse comes to do the “check up” and you barely have to turn over before they say “Oh you poor thing”. Yeah….no one ever wants to hear that.

  8. says

    Gosh, I’m just so excited to have kids! haha Sorry you had some…err…issues. Now I have to go apologize to my mother for all the things I’ve ruined for her lol

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