WARNING -- THIS POST IS F.O.P.

My poor 9 year old son, Wonder Boy, is F.O.P.! His tummy has hurt since Monday and so the hubby took him to the doctor yesterday (this is apparently the advantage of hubby not having work this week -- he can do all the doctor and eye doctor appointments with the kids!).

Anyway, poor Wonder Boy has been out of sorts. There has not been so much pain that he is really complaining. He has just been uncomfortable and a little out of sorts. So, yesterday they journey to the doctor, x-rays are taken, and the doctor returns to the examining room. She puts the film up on the light box, flips on the light, and says "OH MY!" My son and husband freeze in fear and shock. She then smiles at my son and says "You, my friend, are F.O.P." He stares at her blankly. She continues, "F.O.P. means you are 'full of poo.'"

My husband got a HUGE kick out of this. My son was somewhat amused as well. He told me how the x-rays showed large black things. Poo. My husband told me that it was pretty darn amazing how much poo was inside my son. The doctor said he was pretty much impacted and gave hubby directions on what he could buy over the counter to help the situation.

So last night, Wonder Boy got the first dose and had a movement. Nothing to write home about, just a movement. The thing is, he's been having movements. I predicted the issue was constipation since I don't think he's drinking enough. We are all lactose intolerant here so each of us can easily have IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) type issues. What is super sad is that he thought constipation could kill him. I straightened him out on that but feel really bad he was scared.

So I just called home to check on him and the 2nd does of the clean out stuff had some impact. This time is scared the heck (see how I resisted temptation while writing this!) out of him. Forgive me, but he had a loose one. Apparently he decided this might be fatal as well. Hubby reassured him that it was okay. Poor Wonder Boy is still F.O.P. He's working on it, but has a LOT to go.

I just hope this medicine cleans him out -- I do NOT want this poor boy to have to get scoped if we can avoid it. This is my child who would not do well with the indignity. My daughter would be fine, she'd just tell you stories about it for the next 10 years. My son would be mortified. In fact, he'd be mortified that I've written about the F.O.P situation. He is not a F.O.P. kind of guy. May today empty him out so he can avoid further medical intervention on his movements.... My poor baby....

In other news -- yes, our street is still not progressing on reconstruction. The gas lines are too shallow for current safety standards. It must be moved. So far this has put the project over 2 weeks behind. I miss parking in my driveway.

It is hard to motivate to grocery shop when you must carry your bags a block to the house. Worse yet, pizza delivery is no longer possible. These are primitive times. I feel uncivilized.

This section of the road (pictured) is okay to drive on, but in front of my home is a swamp. I park on the other side of the barricades. I love when people drive down the street and send the dust clouds a rolling. I especially love it when I'm walking on the sidewalk. I love when my nice black pants can be showered in dust. Oh -- and the dust on my shoes is cool too. I am glad my car is the color of dirt -- at least you don't notice the dust on it like you do those little black sports cars a few of the neighbors drive. I love owning my dirt colored Escape.