A few weeks ago, I pulled a back muscle when I was lifting a case of water. What? Water is heavy. And, sloshy. After it happened, I told my boss that you never realize how much you use your back until you can’t use it anymore.

On Wednesday night my husband suffered a grade 3 rupture of his gastrocnemius, which is a fancy way of saying he badly tore a big muscle in his calf. He was shooting hoops when it happened. Okay, not so much shooting hoops as he was coaching fifth-grade, girl’s basketball. What? Dribbling around 11 year old girls is hard. Especially if you’re 38.

Since then, he has been on crutches and unable to do much. And, let me just say that you never realize how much you use your husband until you can’t use him anymore.

Every single morning, rain, shine, sleet or snow (in Ohio, it’s mostly the rain, sleet and snow part) he walks our dogs. The 11 year old Labrador could probably survive without her daily jaunt, but there is no doubt that she is in such great shape because of my husband, so we like to keep her active.

However, the one year old Labrador, Daisy, needs this exercise. She needs it like I need water, and air and beer.

Every day, my husband walks three miles with the dogs. They run off-leash most of that distance and likely cover twice the ground he does. Then Daisy comes home with her thick tail whacking everything in its path, she grabs a toy, slobbers on my jeans and looks at me as if to say, “I’m just getting warmed up, lady. Let’s play!”

Thanks to my husband’s injury, for the past four days I have been walking the dogs. If you can call it that. It’s more like getting pulled down to the park, letting them off-leash, then running 200 yards through shin-deep snow, in my big, clunky snow boots, to get Daisy because she has run off to steal another dog’s ball.

It is exhausting and after only four days, my body is sore. My left hand is blistered, my ribs feel bruised, I have shin splits and my thigh muscles are like jello. It’s a workout like none other.

I’m actually kind of hoping that I rupture my gastrocnemius.

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I started this blog back in 2007 because I was longing for a creative outlet and I wanted a way to journal the crazy things my kids said and did. There is no way that I’m ever going to let my son forget all the times he’s embarrassed me. Not a chance, kiddo.

After I initially told about 30 friends and family about it, I began to seek out other blogging parents. In doing so, I found a community of people who shared my love of writing and who could see the humor in being a parent. Poop is funny, people.

Very early on, I made a good friend in Joe Schatz from Joeprah.com. Joe is a stay-at-home dad of three great girls. And, Joe totally gets that whole poop thing.

Joe led me, and my blog, in bigger and better directions. He made me realize that I had a genuine audience and that lots of people get the poop thing. Joe was a reader who really believed in me. I owe him so much.

I was incredibly proud of him when he started Dad-Blogs.com. He asked me to write a column there and I jumped on board immediately. Then he got me a writing gig at Examiner.com. Unfortunately, after a couple of months, I had to bow out of both because I, quite simply, had too much on my plate. I am still sick about it.

So, when Joe went and wrote a book and asked me to read it, I have to be honest and say that I was kind of nervous. I’ve always related to his stories and loved his writing, but what if, by some itty-bitty chance, I didn’t like it? I couldn’t bear to let him down again.

I put off reading it. Joe e-mailed me. I put it off again and promised him that I would get to it next week. Joe e-mailed me one more time and said he’s going to be on The Tyra Show on February 18th, and if I could just look at the book before then, it would be great.

Here I am on February 17th, and I just finished reading Joe’s book. So sue me, I’m a procrastinator! And, you know what? This book is brilliant.

I’m not saying that because Joe is a friend, who helped me expand my audience, and who I have disappointed (at least three times now). Though, I can understand how you might think that. Trust me, if I didn’t like the book I would have found a way to blow Joe off yet again.

I’m saying that because it is really, truly great. “Daddy, where’s your vagina?” – What I learned as a stay-at-home dad is touching, funny, informative and different. In a totally good way.

Joe talks about everything a parent needs to know, but not the stuff you find in most books. A typical parenting book might tell you how to change a diaper, but Joe’s book mentions the epic nature of an infant’s “up-the-back” poop. I’ve never read about up-the-back poops in any other book, but mercy me have I experienced them.

My daughter’s UTB’s always happened in the middle of the night and I can vividly remember holding her under the running water in the bathtub hoping the poop would run off and down the drain. But, UTB poop is like tar and you have to get your hands dirty. THIS is the kind of thing that new parents need to know about. That you will be wiping poop tar OFF OF YOUR CHILD’S NECK at 3:00 AM.

This book is a must-read for any parent…not just dads. And, because I really want everyone to read it, I am giving away a copy! Just leave a comment here, with a valid e-mail address, before February 24th at noon EST and I will pick a winner at random.

Maybe I can even get Joe to sign it. That is, if he’s still speaking to me.

*UPDATE* Congratulations to HockeymanDad! You’re the lucky winner!

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1. You know you’ve seen a lot of snow when the meteorologists are predicting six to nine more inches and you think, “Please. That’s nothing but a dusting.”

2. Winter storm warnings take on a whole new meaning when there are icicles as tall as your children hanging from your gutters and trees.

3. You may forget about those icicles until you’re grabbing the morning paper and you open the front door only to have a dozen of them fall on your head.

4. No matter how many times you go to the grocery store, if it’s a snow day you will suddenly be out of bread and milk.

5. And, beer.

6. If your one year old puppy enjoys chewing on ice cubes, she will really enjoy eating the huge, filthy chunks of ice that fall off of cars as they drive down your street.

7. If you have two children and a husband who walks three miles every morning, there will be so many wet clothes that your dryer will work overtime.

8. So will your mop.

9. There are not enough movies, or games, or jigsaw puzzles to get kids through two weeks of snow storms.

10. Which means there is not enough patience to get a frazzled mom through them either.

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My children like to talk. A lot. We have a video of my daughter telling a story when she was three and she doesn’t finish before the tape ran out…after 30 minutes.

Though, at times, it can drive me crazy, I’m glad my kids talk to me. Our conversations have opened the doors to discussions that (hopefully) let my children know that I’ll always be honest with them. If they ask me something, I do my best to give them a truthful, accurate answer.

Being that kids are naturally curious about the human body, this means that some of the things we’ve talked about would make typical parents squirm. That’s right, I’m talking about ex-say. (Ha! Find me now, spammers!) I have always spoken openly about ex-say because we’re all human and it’s a topic that everyone has to deal with at one time or another. God gave us noses to smell and He gave us other parts for other things.

I discuss these things with them because I believe that knowledge is power. I want my kids to be armed and ready to make informed decisions…when they are adults and have finished college and are married to someone who loves and respects them and tells them the sun rises and sets with their smile.

Depending on the age at which they have asked questions, I have had to use language that my children will understand. Which may have backfired on me when my son once told a complete stranger that he had babies in his bawlz.

But, as it turns out, I may have confused my daughter as well. A couple of years ago, when I first explained how babies are conceived, I apparently messed things up quite a bit.

Let’s just say that the other night she told me that she walked away from that conversation thinking that a women had to chew up the man’s parts…as if sitting down to a steak dinner…in order to have a baby.

I’m glad we cleared that up before she meets her future husband.

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