2 years ago

I Told Myself I Wasn’t Gonna Post Today, But…

I told myself I wasn’t gonna post today, but…

Some things are just meant to be shared.  Some things just need to be shared, because as parents, we need to know…

That we aren’t the only ones.

That we aren’t the only ones who go through these kinds of things.

So, please don’t judge, just listen.
And try to imagine, if you can…
Just try to imagine…

It’s mid-morning and you have to go…

number two.

So you scoop up the baby who has been joyfully rolling around on your bed,
put her on your hip,
and try to make your way downstairs to the bathroom.
When you turn around
you find out that your toddler has knocked down your freshly washed and folded stack of clean laundry all over the floor.
He’s smiling, you’re not…

Deep breathe number one...

That’s o.k., cuz…
You gotta go…
number two.

So, you step over the laundry and hurry downstairs because after birth #4, you don’t have a whole lotta dilly dally time anymore!

You plop your baby in her Umbroller which you have set up in the bathroom,
just for such trips.

When she’s all buckled up, you realize there’s a streak of orange baby pooh down your arm—apparently, she had to go
Number two, too!

Deep breathe number two...

That’s o.k., cuz—
you gotta go!

You quickly wash it off, thinking about the upcoming adventure and what might be happening on your bed upstairs.
Amazingly, she is just happily playing with her toy—
She seems content to wait,
Thank God!!!

Then you open the lid to the toilet only to find a massive stinky “present” left by your oldest boy,
who clearly clogged the toilet,
but failed to ask for help
and just left it,
for you—how sweet.

Deep breathes number three, four, five, and six—

That’s o.k.—
you gotta go…
you’re prairie doggin’ it!

You quickly get the plunger and think
“this BETTER eff-ing work!”,

Meanwhile your toddler, who followed you downstairs, because he follows you EVERYWHERE, bathroom included
(ALWAYS!—Do the older kids like sell tickets to the mommy or daddy potty dance show or something? Seriously--),
Is laying down on the diaper changing table saying,
“Look, I’m a baby!”

Haaal-laaay-looo-ya!

 

The sound of the toilet flushing is music to your ears!
A happy maniacal grin erupts across your face, but
That’s not the only thing that’s gonna erupt!
Back to business—
Yours!

Finally, you sit down—
slide the stool under your feet (or your Squatty Potty® if you’re that cool), because, like hemorrhoids or fissures ya’ know!

Anyway, while you’re sittin' there you have an awesome idea for a blog post!

Mid-movement, of course (they always come at the best times, don’t they?)
So you ask your toddler to get you a pen—

But, he has stood up on your diaper changing station
and is trying to reach the ceiling—

“oh, God, please don’t fall—not now!” you think.

Deep breathes number seven, eight…

That’s o.k.—
you are going—and you can totally handle this…

Even if he falls and you have to administer first aid with poop all over you,
you have FOUR KIDS; you can pretty much handle anything at this point.

You find a scrap of paper on the floor from a “Geernall” your older daughter made,
tear out a piece—
to barf your idea on
and ask your toddler again,
all the while trying not to strain (hemorrhoids remember),

“Can you get mama a pen, please?”

He happily hands you an open diaper pin.
But not until after he pokes himself with it!

Deep breath number nine…

After making sure he has not seriously impaled his finger, you say,

“Not that kind of pin, silly, a ‘writing pen’.”

You are desperately trying not to forget your brilliant idea,
because let’s face it,
your memory is SHOT these days,

when your older daughter comes to the door, the one who wrote the “Geernall”

“Mooooooom, I gotta gooooooooo!”

She DEFINITELY can’t wait!

“Gosh, what’s the rush?” you think.

You finish up,
repeating to yourself your idea, like a meditation mantra,
because if you don’t—
it’s GONE—
like your social life.

Finally you are done—
she’s now on the pot—
you’re empty,
feeling better,
toddler is off the table, but—
baby is still sitting—
in her own poop.

Deep breath number ten…

That’s o.k.—
It’s just another day in your life.

Now what were you going to do?

Right—

Change,

Another,

diaper.

 

Hugs,
Mozey

 

Ever have a day, a moment, a morning, an afternoon, or an evening like this?

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Mozey

Mozey is a mother of four and a wife of twelve years. She enjoys making awesome DIY skincare concoctions and healthy home remedies. When She is not breast-feeding, changing diapers, or doing chores, she is usually talking to other moms about breast-feeding, poop, and how to get your kids to do chores!

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