So by around 4:00pm I was pretty beat. Dinner in the crockpot, bread in the oven, boys playing downstairs, Tess down for a nap. I just wanted to sit down and read a little bit about my guy Henry.
And then I heard Josh calling from the basement:
"Mommy! Cole POOPED all over the floor!!!"
Oh boy. That is just what I wanted to hear.
Sure enough, there's poop on the floor. And yet Cole is fully clothed. It's a mystery. Not really - he had a major explosion, which is why I cleaned him up as best I could and then tossed him into the shower. Some poop tsunamis are just not worth fighting.
Then I went downstairs with a bucket of water and a scrub brush and got to work. It actually wasn't too bad, but not exactly what I wanted to do with my few minutes of free time. Then I saw a Wii controller on the floor. With poop on it. Of course. So I gathered up all four controllers and gave them all a good scrubbing with some Clorox wipes.
And while I was doing this I just had to wonder: is this what my life is now? Is this really what I signed up for? Because I'm pretty sure I would be childless right now if I truly knew just how much poop/vomit/snot/other bodily fluids I would be cleaning up in the future.
WHY am I cleaning poop off of Wii controllers?
After wrangling a kicking and screaming Cole out of the shower, I get my answer.
Mommy loves you,
Mommy loves you,
Mommy loves you!
Now give her a big kiss!
Cole sings the song I made up for him when he has his worst Toddler moments. (I'm such an original lyricist, no?) We sing this song at least three times a day, but I'm always the one who starts it. He's off-key and his speech is adorably toddler-lisped. When he's done he gives me a big, wet kiss, right on the cheek.
Then I remember.
2 comments:
My mom once cleaned my barf out of the piano keys... with a butter knife and a wet rag. Those lovey sweet moments make the nasty clean-up moments all worth it. That is a sweet story!
Oh Maren, I laughed out loud at this post. We've been potty-training around these parts and for some reason neither of my girls ever had poop accidents (some freakish blessing, right?) and my son just likes to go wherever and then casually inform me half an hour later, "Mommy, I poop and it rolled unner dah couch."
Good times.
Also, this is a stalker-esque thing to say, but I wish you were in my ward so I could get to know you in real life. I can't get enough of your witty writing!
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