It is Sunday afternoon. Daughter is napping, and I’m about to make a quick run to the grocery store. All of a sudden, I hear “Mommy! I need new underwear because I did a poo-poo!”
Sigh. My son.
I come into the bathroom and see that he has pulled down his underwear and shorts and that there’s a great big mess in there. I put him quickly on the toilet and see that the poop has gotten onto his foot and leg. I mutter under my breath as I put the underwear and shorts into the washing machine. I thought I was done with laundry for the day! And now I have to deal with this shit. I hate dealing with shit!
After my son is finished with what seems to be a very unpleasant #2 (may be in the territory of #3), I stick him in the bath to wash off his feet and leg. Except I didn’t wipe his butt first so a little piece of poop drops into the bath. Ugh! I’m so not ready to potty-train my daughter and deal with more of this crap. Then I see that there’s poop on the outside of the toilet as well as the bathmat where he took off his underwear and shorts. And I still have to clean the poop off my son. UGH!
Did I mention that I hate dealing with shit?!
I curse and moan as I wash my son off roughly with a washcloth, while he keeps saying “Sorry!” over and over again. I bark at him for getting his disgusting paws near my head when I take him out of the bath. I order him to wash his hands really well at the sink as I clean up the poop from the bathtub, bleach it down, wipe the toilet with Lysol, roll up the bathmat, and stick the washcloth into the washing machine along with his soiled clothes. All of a sudden, I feel exhausted. I don’t think I have the energy to go to the grocery anymore. I yell at my son to put on new clothes as I go lie on my bed.
“It’s quiet time! Let me rest!” I yell back.
He comes into my room and hands me a piece of paper. It’s a page ripped out from his coloring book of Dora and Boots on a train. It’s colored green, I suppose because that’s the only color crayon he could find in his room.
“I made this for you.”
And just like that, all is forgiven. I gush as I thank him and tell him how sweet he is.
The thing with having children is that there will definitely be stinky times, but sometimes those stinky times lead to sweet moments. And after all is said and done, dealing with poop is temporary. A child’s love is forever.