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Yesterday Charlotte provided me with a parenting story for the books…

 

Allow me to set the scene.

 

We are currently in the stage of “no pants/diaper” of the potty training stage and Charlotte is playing with her play kitchen just as happy as can be. As she played, making an imaginary meal on her play stove, generating all the noises that accompany cooking a fake dinner, I am sitting at my desk just five feet away. Now, Charlotte has been very good at letting me know when she has to go pee and we always make it to the potty in time for her to go. However, she has not pooped on the potty yet. For some reason she has impeccable timing and has gone poop just as soon as the diaper comes on for nap or bed time. It is about mid morning and I am typing away on my computer and all of a sudden I hear a grunting noise followed by, “Poo poo!” said with great distress in an adorable toddler voice.

I immediately get out of my chair, scoop Charlotte up under her arms and run back to the bathroom. As I turn left around the corner to head down the hallway I hear, “Plop”. My mind shouts, “Keep running!” So I keep running. Then within two seconds I hear, “Plop” for the second time. Now we are only half way down our hallway at this point and mind you it is not a long hallway. We have a very modest house so the total feet from picking up Charlotte to the potty is only 20 feet. Really not that far.

Back to the second plop. After I hear it hit the floor, less than a second later I feel squish. My heart sank, my head is still yelling, “Keep running”, and my stomach is immediately churning. (For some reason poop smells have REALLY bothered me this pregnancy and almost cause gagging every time I smell it.) So my reaction was to keep running but to pick up my left toes, because the poop got on the ball and in between my toes of the left foot, so I am now running on the heel of my left foot and the ball of my right foot. Stop for a second and give it a try. It is super awkward and imagine carrying a toddler while running in this fashion. 

A few more steps and I have made it to the toilet where I quickly place Charlotte on the seat and say, “Stay there.” I hobble over to the bathtub where I turn on as hot of water as I can stand and power wash my foot. It was incredibly red by the time I got all the poop off. Once the poop was washed off, I hobble over to the cleaning supplies and practically bleach my foot clean. I then grab cleaning supplies to clean up the trail of poop that Charlotte, along with myself, have so graciously place on the floor. Thank goodness for tile, super easy to clean! By the time I got to the first pile of poop, it was gone! Wanna guess what happened? Our sweet, loving, and cute dog Oscar decided he would eat it. There goes my stomach again, churn baby churn! I quickly get him outside, because the last thing I want to clean up is dog throw-up.

For the next five to ten minutes I am on my hands and knees desperately trying to clean the floor and get rid of the poop smell. Once the floors have been cleaned, I come back to Charlotte, who has been traumatized by the entire situation all the while making the appropriate noises that accompany a traumatized child, and proceed to clean her up. Once everything and everyone was cleaned and I was able to sit back down I realized that I have this sticky feeling in between my left toes even though everything has dried. And once more, the stomach churns.

I hope there are some other parents out there who can relate or have their own glorious poop story. Please share if you have one I would love to have a good laugh, at someone else’s expense. 🙂

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