Well gang, it was bound to happen. My sister got the brunt of poop-pocalypse when H first arrived but it was only a matter of time before I had a poop-scapade of my own.
We thought we had everything under control after the first incident. After much googling and deliberation we had found the culprit! Clearly it was the excessive amounts of juice H drinks.
Seriously though, if he hadn’t JUST got a physical (is it called a check-up with kids?) I would be concerned because I swear he drinks a gallon a day. One night, he had an accident and you couldn’t even tell because it was clear. It didn’t even smell (overshare), because it was that watered down.
Anyways, much to H’s dismay, we reduced the amount of juice. First, we bought the 50% less sugar option (which is probably just a marketing scheme to sell pre-watered down apple juice for an extra dollar to the health-conscious moms out there). And then we took it a step further and began watering down the already reduced apple juice.
It worked! Or so we thought…
On Thursday, I got a call from the daycare. H had “had an accident” and “they cleaned him up as best they could but it would probably be best if I came and got him.”
When I arrived, H was wearing the spare set of clothes I had packed for him. The teacher told me “she just went ahead and put the dirty ones in this bag” and literally handed me a bag full of shit.
(Ok I KNOW I said my New Years resolution was to stop cussing and I have done a pretty good job but I get a free pass with this one. I was handed a bag of shit!)
I looked at her and said “you kept this?”
She replied “oh ya, some parents get really mad when we throw things out.”
I look down at H, who seems totally fine and unbothered and realize he isn’t wearing shoes.
The teacher points to the bag. “It kind of went everywhere so I just put the shoes in there with the rest of it”.
The Post-poop Shower
We get home and naturally, H doesn’t want to take a bath. So I tell him we can go in the pool IF we take a shower in the outdoor shower first. That wasn’t enough so I told him he could also play with the hose.
So, I am standing outside my house in a mis-matched bikini. It was the only thing I could grab and change into in the .5 seconds I had before a child and a dog came barging into the bathroom. I am holding red and blue avenger shoes with the soles covered in poop in one hand and a soapy loofah in the other.
H runs around butt naked in the back yard spraying bugs with the garden hose while I chase him with the soapy loofah, which is a hilarious game in his head.
I am trying to keep my “game face on” because if he realizes I am literally trying to control my gag reflex, he might realize it’s not a game and the gleeful hose spraying and loofah scrubbing will turn into a loud, poopy, grass rolling nightmare.
Once I get him to a satisfactory level of clean, I turn to the shoes.
My first reaction was to pitch them straight into the garbage with the clothes. Kids’ shoes aren’t THAT expensive. But H loves these shoes. And more than that, I closed my eyes and imagined the tears and screaming that were sure to ensue when we put on the gray shoes. Every. Single. Morning.
So, I grabbed the hose and started spraying them down. But then I hear a little voice behind me: “I wanna do it! I wanna do it.”
I sigh and hand him the hose.
His little uncoordinated hands grab the hose. He puts 3 fingers over the water to give it a spraying effect. And, he as he sprays the soles of his red and blue shoes, flecks of poop loosen from the bottom and fly into the air and all over our clean bodies…almost like fireworks on New Years.
What a way to ring in a Thursday.