Shit is Ubiquitous – Well, Really, It’s Ushitquitous

Someecards re: poop

Not again…

Disclaimer:  Since I wrote this piece, I read that research has shown people don’t like to read about your kid’s potty habits.  What I say to them:  Shut the fuck up.

Carrying on…

A friend and I recently had a talk about how shit is ruining our lives or, at the very least, putting us in a bit of a funk.  If you’re at home with two kids and two dogs (like me), you are handling dukie more than the average human.  Okay, so it’s not exactly direct contact, but between the diapers, the doggy poopy bags, and wiping my older son’s ass, life can start to feel like a steaming pile.

Last year, my husband booked two nights away for us, and the conversation went something like this:

Husband:  Hey, I booked us two days in Vegas without the kids!

 Me:  Two days away from poop!

Husband:  Yeah – two days in Sin City – gambling, clubs, pool time!

Me: A feces-free fiesta – fucking fantastic!  Well, except my own, of course (although I can rarely “go” on vacation).  

Husband:  Two days of sleeping in!

Me:  A two day shit-cation!

Husband:  You sure talk about shit a lot.

Me:  No shit.

You can really feel like you’re bogged down in the quagmire of number two if you’ve got a tub-shitter.  Really, either you do or you don’t.  You might have the occasional dabbler in tub-shitting, but some kids hit that warm water and it just really gets things moving.  That’s our number one little dude.  Seemed like every time he hit that hot water, he’d get a little grin on his face, and then a look of relief would come over him.  And then you’d just know.  Husband and I had it down to a science, though.  He’d get the gloves (which was actually two sandwich baggies for his hands), while I’d get the bleach and the toys out of the tub.  Depending on my level of frustration, they’d either go right in the garbage, or I’d take the time to sanitize them one at a time while colorful language streamed under my breath like a warm, summer breeze.  Or like poop in a tub.

This really happened…

One night, first little dude jumped out of the tub exclaiming he had to go poo poo.  Imagine my joy that he actually made it out in time.  As I sat playing Words With Friends while sitting on the toilet (don’t judge me), I heard some grunting coming from the tub. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, not kid number two — my formerly shit-tubbing-free prodigy!  Husband was gone, and I was not going through the sanitizing bullshit without him, so I decided to shower them both, since I hadn’t showered myself yet.  Number one loves to shower “like a big boy,” so he thought this was the best thing since sliced bread, while number two cowered like a kicked dog in the corner, barely allowing the water to reach him.  I ended up holding him and soaping him down in a flurry of cleaning, and as I left the shower to towel him off, his slippery lil’ body slipped right from my fingers onto the floor.  SHIT!

In the words of two famous gay cowboys, “Poop, I wish I could quit you.”

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Comments

  1. Bill says:

    I swear you are speaking my language. The day before yesterday a co-worker asked me to plunge the women’s room toilet. She apologized profusely for the fact that she not only had to ask me but at such an early hour; 9am. I replied, “Are you kidding me? Not more than 1 hour ago, I had to scrub shit out of my son’s underwear and clean his hole only to be followed by picking up my dog’s daily morning soft serve – which is AWESOME when done on grass that hasn’t been cut in the last 3 weeks. You’re giving me a long stick with a rubber cone to interact with crap that I can’t even see…I owe YOU.”

    • lbb_marnie says:

      Billy, you were my inspiration for that post to begin with–lol! You may not remember, but we had a conversation about this way back when, and that’s when I wrote this post. ha! Awwww shit!

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