I can’t think of a better word to describe my night. It’s been one of those nights where I stop and think, “Really? This is what my life is about now? I work 42 hours a week and come home to clean up poop?”
To start with, Matt is on call. As in, went to the hospital at 5 this morning and will hopefully get off by noon tomorrow. Yeah, those doctors, they’ve got it easy, right? Well, that leaves me here to take care of the kiddo by myself. No big deal on a normal night. This was not a normal night.
I had just put Zane in his bath and was changing into my ‘comfy clothes’. That’s when it began. The ill-timed bathtub bowel movement. Ugh. It has happened once before, but Matt was here to help. I grab Z up out of the tub and set him on the toilet. Nothin. I get him down and start scooping the ‘foreign objects’ out with a cup and dumping (no pun intended) them into the toilet.
Guess who wasn’t finished? Far from it. I look over and he’s pooping in the bathroom floor and trying to climb into the cabinet all at the same time. My little multi-tasker. Back to the toilet and he successfully makes his first deposit in the ole porcelain bank. I “clean” him up, start cleaning up the tub/floor/toilet, look over and he’s now pooped on the bath mat AND in the shower. Lovely.
His next pooping destination appears to be my closet. I intervene and slam the closet door shut…….ON MY POOR LITTLE POOPY HEAD’S FINGER!
Oh.My.Word. Obviously he’s screaming his head off, I’m overwhelmed with guilt, and scoop him up to console him. And now I have poop on my shirt. Lovely. I feel so glamorous. Can this night get any worse? Never ask that question because you won’t like the answer, right?
I find the splattered dog diarrhea in the hallway floor as we’re headed to Zane’s room to put on his pjs.
Poop, poop, and more poop. Have I mentioned how glamorous I feel?
In hind sight, I shouldn’t have let his little naked butt run around the bathroom. Should I have let him stay in the tub til he finished? Took him out and put a diaper on him? I don’t know…..I’m just trying to figure these things out as I go.
I even stopped in the chaos and took a picture of the poop in the floor with my phone and texted it to Matt and our moms. Didn’t want anyone to feel left out. I decided not to post it here. Consider this your lucky day. Maybe I’ll threaten him with it one day when he’s 16 and wants to bring an ole stinky, silly girl to my house.
Instead, here are some pictures of my sweet little boy before church. He’s holding a stick. Always. He loves to be outside and to play with sticks.