Seriously, if someone had told me about all the poop I would be exposed to as a mom I would not have believed them. Why didn’t anyone tell me about the poop? I’m not saying it would have changed anything, but at least I would have been more prepared.
Let me back up a bit.
As mentioned before, I’m testing the waters of being a w
ork-my tail off stay-at-home mom. I’m not very good at it. I don’t want to be UN-productive so I’ve become over-productive. So much so, I can’t get anything done. You following?
In regards to my masters, I want to be the top of my class, so I work on school (a lot). If the assignment calls for a 400 word paper, I write 1200 words. I want to be the top in my field so I take on 4 social media pages to apply all the strategies I am learning. I spend most nights, working on ads and searching various sites for outstanding content. I want to make money so I started working at opening my own company… harassing my friends about logos and working at enlarging my own social media footprint. I want to be around people so I take on a part-time job. I want to be a good person and help people, so I offer to help everybody with everything. I want to be Betty and Martha combined, so I try to manage a household, clean and cook dinner.
Then, there is Brooks. Precious Brooks, my two-year bundle of destruction. Fun? Yes! Cute? OMG, You Have No Idea! Concerned with my sanity? Not At All. He is my biggest priority and my biggest distraction. Most days go like this:
I wake up every morning by 7. Yes, it was earlier when I was working, but 7 works just fine for now. I immediately go get Brooks out of bed. He is so snuggly in the morning. He points to where he wants me to set him and instructs me to get him, “Juce.” On most days, I set about straightening the house, making beds and washing and putting up clothes. I like baths, so I run a bath. Brooks likes baths, too. I usually try to time this perfectly with Micky Mouse Club. It gives me 30 minutes of peace. This particular day, my messenger starts going off early. People have questions, every day, as to what I’m doing now. Every day. So I message back, desperately trying to make the best out of my only allotted window of quiet.
As I am running a bath, we have a few setbacks. Brooks spills his chocolate milk all over the couch, the sheets are wet and have to be washed, I can’t find the remote. Okay, I have to hurry, tub is full. Right as I enter the bathroom, my phone rings and it is a friend having trouble with her computer. Okay, this shouldn’t take but a minute… as I was talking with her, Brooks discovered the bath, striped down and jumped in. Okay, so today’s bath won’t be that peaceful after all. I finish my conversation and go back into the bathroom… at this point Brooks jumps out. That’s weird… but Yay!, I’m getting a bath all to myself. I dry him off and set him up with a movie.
I start adding more hot water, after all it’s been 30 minutes since I started this endeavor, turn on the bubbles and sink in to relax. I am running the jets so the water is all churny and bubbly. Something hits my leg. Oh, it’s probably a toy car. There it is again. Hang on, I’ll just grab it and put it on the ledge. I search with my hand for a few seconds and Eureka… got it. It wasn’t a car. It wasn’t a toy. It WASN’T a toy car! What it was – was a rather large piece of poop. Man-sized, I would say. @#$#%^$%@^!!!
This girl walked on water. I have never jumped out of a tub so fast in my life. I gave a whole new definition to naked and afraid! There’s your realty show… Just follow the life of a mom with a toddler. Break neck doesn’t even begin to describe what I must have looked like getting out of that tub. “My sanctuary” had been contaminated, violated, by feces. Yuck.
It’s clear now why Brooks got out. He just wanted to leave me a present. In the last 5 years, I have wiped more butts than I ever thought possible. I have cleaned up fish poop, puppy poop, big dog poop, rabbit poop, over-flown toilet poop, poop outside, poop inside, solid poop, liquid poop, poop in a dump truck and yes, even poop on my treadmill… poop, poop, poop. I should own stock in paper towels and wipes.
NO ONE. EVER. TOLD. ME. ABOUT. THE. POOP.
It should be told. So, I am telling it.
Moms-to-be – there is a lot of poop coming your way.
Look for it everywhere. No place is safe.
Do you have a funny poop story? Now’s the time to tell it… Just comment below.