So, if I were to poll 100 mothers, I’m almost certain that 90 of them would have a classic “poop” (excuse my forward use of the word) story for at least one if not all of their children. I mean, who knew that “poop” would become such a normal part of our daily rituals as a beloved mother? What used to make us gag now has established normalcy in our lives.
Let me give you an example. Before I had kids, if I were to spill the slightest thing on my shirt, I would soak it in water for 24 hours, have it dry cleaned and pressed so that it could look “like new” again. After I had kids, if I get the slightest thing on my shirt (i.e. food, spit up, and yes, even poop), I put some Shout on it and throw it in the washer with all of the rest of the clothes, cloaking the stains as “marks of mommyhood”. Because who really has time to soak one single shirt for 24 hours until the stain is perfectly lifted? Exactly my point. Now, that we are all on the same page, here’s one of my dreaded poop escapades.
One morning, I woke up, as usual to the sounds of my daughter pleasantly playing by herself through the baby monitor. She was no more than 12 or 13 months old and she was singing away and laughing all by herself. As this is one of every mommy’s greatest things to hear (their children being self-entertained), I smiled to myself, and then thought how nice it was going to be to take a shower by myself without having to have baby songs playing in the bathroom to entertain her. So, I take a long, deliberate shower, thankful for a moment to myself and to get refreshed. I rush out of the shower, throw some clothes on, chuckling to myself as I still hear my wonderful child playing, cooing, singing, and laughing on the baby monitor. I’m preparing myself to go in and play with her, excited about our day together.
I open my door to our bedroom, and start walking down the hallway, when I get my first whiff of “poop”. I think to myself how strong it smells for me to be so far away from the door, but keep walking. The smell of “poop” is getting greater and greater, the closer I approach the door, and I’m contemplating what she ate last night that would make her “poop” smell that strong. I then place my hand gently on the door to her room, hesitating as I turn the knob to open the door. As I open the door, to my surprise, my happy daughter has taken off her diaper and spread “poop” everywhere!
Everywhere is not an exaggeration. She spread it on the crib, which formally was white and was now brown and white speckled. She spread it on the walls, which previously white were now brown. She spread it on her legs, her arms, her face, and yes even her mouth. She threw the poop across the room, even, adorning her pretend playmates and stuffed animals. Yes, the whole entire room was “pooped”. So now, what once gagged me is indeed gagging me again. I reluctantly and with only two fingers, pull her out of her crib, toss her in the tub, dousing her with water and soap – more water, then more soap, and repeating this process again and again, trying to figure out how this happened? I went to her room, cleaning again wondering how this happened and most importantly how this happened without my husband being home.
I finally got everything cleaned up, I’m frustrated, I’ve taken my third shower of the day, trying to rid myself of the stench of “poop” everywhere when I get a call from my husband. “Hey sweetness (he affectionately calls me), what are you doing?” I respond even toned, yet very sarcastic, “I’m potty-training our daughter, what do you think I’m doing?” He responds, “Potty training? Don’t you think that’s a bit early?” I reply, calmly yelling, “I just cleaned up poop everywhere! It was in her mouth…in her mouth! On me! It was on her crib! It was on me! You just don’t understand!” He replies, “Oh (long pause)…Glad I wasn’t there, I probably would have thrown up everywhere!” We both laugh hysterically. Could you imagine this story if it was daddy cleaning up poop and not mommy? You do the math.
Happy “poop” trails!
Kristen
