Category: Can't make this stuff up


I am a Christian.

I’m not a very good one, but I’ve got the faith part down (for the most part), and I believe that Jesus Christ is my Saviour.

So while I tend to miss church a little way too much, I have to be there on Easter. That’s a big one.

As I sat there during the service (my husband won’t attend, but that’s a whole ‘nother blog), one of the teenagers who works in the nursery comes looking for me. Finding me, she says the words I dread most in this world.

“Umm, Neve just pooped on herself.”

(Note: Please give mad props that I didn’t drop the f-bomb, s-word, or even a d without a g.)

(Another note: I seriously just said “mad props.” Wow.)

I head back to the nursery like I’m walking the Green Mile. I was expecting a pair of Dora panties with a turd floating in them. I was sooo wrong.

Neve had decided she was going for broke (perhaps since it’s been so long since she’s done this?). The child had a full-on monster bowl movement while standing directly in front of the toilet. Didn’t even pinch one off and then hop on. Then, she stuck the heel of her brand new white satin (of freakin’ course) shoe in the poop. At this point, she started dragging the heel across the floor. But she didn’t stop there.

No, when my little angel had finished with the linoleum, she went out into the actual nursery. With the baby blue CARPET. It looked like the most horrifying skid mark ever. It looked like what (I only imagine) a hardcore gang bang porn star’s thong looks like after a 12-hour workday. Nasty.

So, I spent a half an hour on Easter scrubbing my kid’s crap out of floors. Then I called my mother to come get her (because my ass was. DONE).

As I scrubbed under the watchful eye of my fellow churchgoers, I thought, “Well, if they weren’t judging me before, they sure as hell are now!”

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Edie, not even 8 months old, figured out how to pull her diaper off today.

The disaster that this will be is unthinkable.

For whatever reason, my little darlings like their own poop more than Play-Doh. Edie has an incredible ability to poop straight up her back, leaving trace amounts in her diaper (but an unholy hell in her sleeper). Every diaper change is a round of “Let’s grab the crap!” Needless to say, I’ve spent some time cleaning up fecal matter. I feel like the guy who cleans up after the monkeys at the zoo, actually.

Unfortunately, this means that Neve sees Edie getting loads of attention from something as simple as pooping. So she has decided she wants diapers again.

To assert this, she craps her pants.

Okay, I understand kids regress, but 1. The baby is 8 months old already and 2. Neve is 4 years. Gearing up for preschool this fall. This situation does. not. work.

So of course, I try to fight it (no, honey, you’re a big girl… babies can’t eat snacks and candy and blah blah blah… babies can’t play with those and blah blah blah…). In response, Neve decided to step it up a notch.

One of my favorite Bob Saget scenes is from “Dumb and Dumberer,” where a melted chocolate bar smeared all over his bathroom causes Bob’s character to scream repeatedly, “OH MY GOD! THERE IS SHIT EVERYWHERE!” Hilarious. I loved it. Until I lived it.

The other day, I go to check on Neve who is using the toilet. She had finger-painted her poop all across her body (chest to ankles), the floor, the side of the tub, and the toilet.

And the Princess (yours truly) had a royal fit.

Neve travels to the land of nap time while Mommy cleaned up the hell that was her bathroom. When Neve woke up, it was lunchtime. I set her down at the table as I prepared a PB&J sandwich and peeled a banana (this kid’s favorite meal in the entire world). Then I pulled a bottle of formula out of the fridge, plopped it down in front of her, and started eating the sandwich.

Kid freaked the f*ck out. Like hardcore.

Needless to say, after that one, she got a sammich and a nanner and I’ve been poopy-painting free ever since.

But looking at Edie’s new trick, I doubt I will be for long.

Don't even think about it. Courtesy pottytraininghub.com

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R.I.P. Corey Haim. May you find peace.