It's 9am on a easy Tuesday morning. Rowan finally wakes up, boys are watching cartoons, and I think "I'm going to hop in the shower!" I'd been skinny dipping in Lake Superior the night before with all the pregnant mamas from Yoga. I know it's the largest body of fresh water in the world, extremely clean, we have the best city drinking water around, blah blah blah - I just wanted to wash the lake out of my hair. I start the oven to make the kids' new breakfast favorite - baked cake - and race upstairs to the shower. Wally eventually joins me in the bathroom, which is probably a good thing since we are just one day into potty training, The bathroom is as good a place as any to have the 1/2 naked 2 year old - with the toilet and all. AND I have a back-up potty chair in the corner to boot.
So I'm scrubbing away when Wally starts to poop...on the floor! Choosing neither the toilet nor the potty chair. "Wally, sit down on the chair" "No!" "Wally just sit down right there." "No!" On the floor the poopies go. Meanwhile I'm getting minute by minute reports of a fight between Rowan and Oscar breaking out downstairs. Oscar runs in to tell me all about it one, two, three times. I'm yelling downstairs a few times trying to stop the madness and decide I better get out of the shower and attempt to force Wally to sit on the chair to finish his business. The water from my soaked, pregnant body is pooling at my feet, and the few turds turn into poop puddles. I realize the futility of this and plop the poopy Wally in the shower with me.
In the shower we get soaped up real good. A couple more fight reports come in from the sibling battle downstairs. The thought, "can anything else go wrong?" when the smoke detector goes off! This is a common problem in our house. It's a brand new alarm and just the heat of cooking starts the ear-bleeding beeping. I do have a moment of "what if there really is a fire and flames are leaping out of my kitchen while the big kids fight and I wash poop off a bottom and try to condition my hair?" Wally and I, semi-rinsed, hop out of the shower. I wrap the the first towel I see - possibly the smallest towel we own (where did this tiny thing come from?) around my growing belly and head downstairs. Twist the alarm from the ceiling, check for flames and quick mix up the baked-cake batter. With the alarm now disarmed, naked Wally follows me into the kitchen. I turn around just in time to see a long turd coming out of the little butt of the little tyrant who just moments before insisted he was "DONE!" My mama brain tells me the best option is to catch the turd before it hits the ground - possibly involving the legs, being stepped in, slipped on, spread around the flour/the house, leading to a total family e-coli outbreak, etc. Into my hand it goes and I drop it into the waiting potty chair which is conveniently located in the corner of the kitchen (potty training tip: have a potty chair on all levels of your home). The poop has no sooner left my hand when another turd makes an appearance and I catch that one too. As I'm catching turds with one hand, my clean hand is trying to bend Wally at the waist to sit in the potty chair! That's working about as well as, *insert witty analogy here.
This whole time I'm in a mini towel that I've clipped with a clothes pin at my chest. I wipe off the poop with a paper towel, wash with soap and scalding (as hot as is safe to set a water heater to with children in the house) 250 times and peek back just in time to see the dog take a sniff, and quite possibly a LICK of the poop in the potty chair. I ask Wally "Did Klondike just lick the poop?!" "Yes." "He DID!?" "Yes." I throw the dog out back, the big kids come into the kitchen with more sibling injustice to report and that's when I yell - OUT LOUD - "Oh my mother fucking God!!" (for any of my older relatives that could possibly read this someday - my apologies)
So there it is. 5 minutes in the life of a stay-at-home mom. It all goes downhill so fast.
I called Tim having the need to share with someone. "So I hop in the shower to wash the lake out of my hair when..." My story goes longer than the actually series of events. There is a long pause..."So you're on your way to the lake?" ...WHAT!?
In Klondike's defense - Rowan made a good point. Wally is only 2 and sometimes doesn't know what he is talking about. He says "yes" to everything sometimes. And some days he says "NO" to everything. So, we will never know if the dog licked said poop or not. I say, best to error on the side of caution in this case.
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