Many of you know that phone calls home can be few and far between when your loved one is deployed. We’ve been very fortunate in that I have talked to the Husband almost every day on the phone. This morning was the first time the girls were able to talk to him.

He’s gotten to make calls through a few different avenues. When he calls my cell phone, it’s a “self-monitored” 15 minute call. When he calls the house phone it’s strictly enforced 15 minutes. It’s like the old payphones, when your time is up, the call is disconnected.

I know you are thoroughly confused now. The calls are routed through the “morale offices” at various bases. {The Husband is a talker, many of you know. So he has been able to talk his way into making calls through various bases because our cell phone and house phone are in different area codes.}

So today was one of the strictly enforced calls, and unfortunately the girls don’t get the concept of time very well. So they play, fight and argue when they should be talking. The Big One went so far as to hide upstairs with the phone behind her back because she wanted to keep talking, but the Husband was asking for me. He knew the time was running short and wanted to check on me.

I finally got the phone from her and closed myself in the spare bedroom so I could talk without the arguing and whining of the girls distracting me. The Big One perched herself outside the door knocking, saying, “let me in!” over and over and over again. I didn’t hear a peep from the Little One. That’s always a bad sign, huh?

So I talked to the Husband for a couple more minutes. It was tough breaking the news to him that the Space Shuttle may land here this afternoon. He is really bummed to potentially be missing it again. We saw it last Thanksgiving, but a few months ago when it landed at Edwards again we were in San Diego.

After the call abruptly ended; you get a five minute warning, then a one minute warning and then I think it went to five seconds, I opened the door and asked the Big One where her sister was. She told me the Little One was “playing with her diaper.”

I knew I was in trouble and was going to pay for the five minutes of peace on the phone. As I walked to the end of the hall towards my bedroom I smelled poop. For those of you who don’t follow my regular blog, the Little One seems to have a poop obsession.

I first found the wipes box covered in poop, then I found the diaper with skid marks. I looked in the toilet and only saw more wipes in there. I cleaned up that mess and then went looking for the Little One. I found a few more wipes as I walked downstairs and then finally found the Little One in the downstairs bathroom crying that her butt hurt.

She claims that she flushed the poop, and for my sake I pray she is telling the truth.