Seriously, I cannot make this shit up. Pun intended for obvious forthcoming reasons.
So we all know Mommy cannot get sick. It one of the universal truths of life, in all cultures, in all corners of the world. I have come to realize this more and more with each illness I contract and with each new kid I birth.
My lovely kids shared their boogery cold with me, so I am congested and have almost no sense of smell. Kid #3 was about to go into bath with his older brother. I had changed his diaper a few minutes earlier and smelled no sign of poop (or really anything else all day). So I haphazardly ripped off his diaper with him draped over my arm. Crap. For real. Poop falling out of diaper… now smearing all over Mommy’s thigh and arm… dropping all over the floor… I rush him to his changing table, which is in his room, across hall from bathroom, dropping poop as I go and subsequently stepping in it in my favorite slippers, ensuring that it is truly ground into our carpet.
On changing table, poop is EVERYWHERE. Not only is it smeared all over various parts of my body, but also his. And he keeps putting his foot in more because it is all over the changing table pad. Oh, and he is screaming in anger because he was so excited to take a bath with his brother and instead was ripped from happy bathland to be de-poopified.
Where the hell do I begin? So I just started wiping and wiping and wiping and wiping and wiping. And oh, there is more. Yep, there too. Finally once he was clean, I put him in his crib to then take off my poop-covered clothes. And then on to the carpet…
20 minutes later, baby and I re-emerge in the bathroom where kid #1 has been taking a bath. My slippers are now in the trash, but my socks are suddenly soaked. There is a lake — a sea I could call it — of water on the bathroom floor. My son explains that he had created a “water machine” and did not realize the mess he had made. Are you kidding me?! So baby gets plopped into bath (now finally happy) and Mommy takes on the task of mopping up the effect of said “water machine.”
So thank you, cold, for turning my one-beer night into a two-beer night.
Silver lining, people. It is all about the silver lining.