Well folks, the title says it all. I will set forth a warning now - this post contains several references to excrement, poop, doodie, shit, #2, poopies - whatever you call it...the entire passage is about shit and the shit we go through when dealing with shit. There are no pictures, to protect the innocent and the weak stomachs out there. If you choose to read on, it is at your own risk.
I would like to start out by reiterating the fact that the majority of my mommy life is grounded in the mantra that if I don't laugh, I will cry. So I try to take a humorous approach, as much as is soberly possible, to all things that hit me. Now, sometimes, the laugh resembles the scene from Tom Hanks' Money Pit, where the bathtub falls through the floor after he has taken buckets of water up to put in it. He just starts laughing, because if he doesn't, he will break down in utter defeat and cry like a baby. The laugh is hearty, and boisterous, and painstakingly fake - but if you are going to go crazy, you might as well do it with a smile, no matter how manufactured.
Next caveat- we are potty training my son right now, and he is to be forgiven for all things he does as he learns his body. I get that. However, it was the process of potty training my first kid that caused me to swear off having any more children, because I NEVER wanted to go through that shit again (excusing the pun). Alas, I was blessed with another child, and subsequently cursed with another round of potty training.
For those of you that haven't been through the process, it SUCKS. I would compare it to maybe the Epilady razor back in the 80's - just as painful as electronically picking out all your individual pubic hairs in a circular motion slowly - and just as tedious as having to shave regularly. At least when you wax it is fast - but the Epilady - the Epliady took time...a slow torture. Potty training is no different. As a recovering germaphobe, it might possibly be the single hardest thing I have ever done as a parent, and the reason I refuse to buy one of those mini potties - fuck that - I am not picking up your peep and poop and pouring it anywhere...go in the fucking toilet and flush it down. Now, I know that if this is the hardest thing I have had to deal with, then I am much luckier than some, and I thank God daily for that. But seriously, for me...this is The Gauntlet.
Which leads me to the incident we had the other night. Picture this - bath time, all is well. Both kids are playing nicely, enjoying the magical healing waters that transform your nasty little petri dishes into clean and harmonious angels. Your son stands up in the bath, and says - "I go pee pee in the bath" while simultaneously releasing a faint spot of gas from the other side. Seeing no evidence of urine at the moment, you respond quickly and say, "No pee-pee in the bath" and you pull him out and place him on the toilet to sit there and pee. You see no evidence of anything in the water. Crisis averted!
Moments later, you turn around to see your daughter still sitting in the bath..when suddenly, you see something floating in the water, making its way around her. You think, "Oh please lord, no". Yep, you have suddenly re-found religion. But, clearly God was on the other line, because what do you see floating toward you, but a big ole' human log. YUP. A huge piece of shit, perfectly shaped like Mr. Hankey and making its rounds in the calming bath waters. Your first reaction? Well, you scream out like Spalding in Caddyshack of course - "DOODIE!"
Soon you realize your daughter has been sitting in this water for at least 2 minutes. So you immediately pull her out, call for your husband to shower her and scrub her with a bar of soap that will be thrown out immediately, while you find something, anything, to fish a fucking human waste snicker bar out of the bathtub. Thank god for that ziplock that happens to be sitting in the hall that your daughter kept LOL dolls in, but of course, never picks them up, so, awesome Girl - for once your disobedience has done me a solid - excuse the pun again, please.
From there, you empty the tub, and painstakingly spray literally EVERYTHING in the bathroom with Clorox, regardless of its proximity to the tub, considering for a moment if you should spray the kid still sitting on the potty. Meanwhile, he stands up and proudly proclaims - "I DID IT!". Yes, Son...yes you did. Strangely, you are somewhat proud that a little poop made it into the toilet - and for a split second, you are transported to a happy place - until you remember that the entire bathtub, including the toys must be sanitized immediately...and you are brought back to your own personal hell.
I don't know why "Parent" was never a job showcased on the Discovery Channel show, "Dirty Jobs". Between the poo, the puke, the spit, the spoiled food the colds and the germs, it is quite possibly the single most disgusting job on the planet - and you don't even make minimum wage. What kind of crock is that?!? Sure, sure, seeing your child grow up and become an amazing member of society - yes, that's fantastic. But come on...there has to be at least some recognition for what it takes to get them there. Ya feel me?
At the end of the day, we survived LogGate2019 - and are now all the wiser. The moral of the story is - and I think this is a great life lesson in general - never trust a fart. Period.
A Wish for my son, on the first anniversary of his birth. Yes assholes, this post is two weeks late, but at least I am doing it - screw you and your judgements. Oh, and Piercey - sorry Little Man, this is going to be printed out and added to your book because Mommy is too friggen exhausted to write a separate entry - when I live to see your ass graduate from grad school you will thank me for saving the extra 40 minutes to sleep off all the sleepless nights you have provided me in your one year of life. You're welcome.
So Piercey - in my 40 years on this earth I have learned a thing or two - and quite frankly, I am still learning, will most likely never stop. I struggle, just like you will, to figure out where I fit in, what I can do better, and how I can make an impact. I doubt myself everyday - and then find myself telling my Ego to Fuck Off - it's an internal struggle, and ya, I am pretty neurotic (don't worry, your sister got the crazy lady gene - it's sort of a thing with the women in our bloodline - we're all nuts - congrats for being a boy). Every minute I have to remind myself how incredibly blessed I am, because it is so easy to get caught up in all the day-to-day bullshit that you can lose sight of it all. Honestly buddy - it's hard growing up, and newsflash, I don't think you every really do. You are constantly hiking up a big hill - but at the end of the day, regardless of how hard it is, every little thing, is gonna be alright.
So on your first birthday, I wish you the following in life (some of these I need to remind myself of too):
Ok, so that's it. Basically I want you to be more than I have ever been or could be. You are going to be amazing Little Man...and I hope to God I am here long enough to see it. I love you. Good Night.
Foul mouthed, outspoken and pretty much an eternal realist.