***Note: This post is not for the squeamish or faint hearted. There are horrible re-tellings of smeared fecal matter herein. Approach with caution.
First of all, I need to say what a wonderful son Bennett is. I adore him, and I feel so blessed to be his Mama. God really gave me a treasure when He knit sweet Bennett together in my womb 3 years ago, and not a day goes by when I do not count myself the luckiest Mama in the world.
That being said... here's a story for those of you who wonder if everything is always sunshine and roses in my neck o' the woods. There were no roses in my house today. No sunshine. Only fertilizer.
It actually started out as a great day. We got out of the house and off to MOPS without any meltdowns or issues. We even got through a grocery store-stop on the way home without incident.
Then came nap time.
Nap time and bedtime have been a real struggle lately. Bennett gets out of bed over and over and over again, and dealing with it has been exhausting.
Another *seemingly* unrelated struggle we've been having lately is that Bennett keeps pooping in the pull-up he wears for naps. He's been potty-trained for months now, and I'm positive he has plenty of time to make it to the potty when he feels the urge. So basically the pooping incidents are laziness on Bennett's part. I can just see him sitting there, thinking to himself:
"I really need to poop but I don't feel like walking over to the potty right now. I'm playing cars. I think I'd prefer to just poop in my pull-up and hang out that way while I finish playing."
Needless to say, Bennett has quickly figured out that Mama doesn't really jive with this lazy, poop-my-pants approach to bowel movements.
It was today... on this lovely fall Thursday, that our two biggest toddler struggles collided. It was quite an incident.
I put Bennett down for his nap, reminding him that he MUST stay in bed and that I'd be back to check in a few minutes to make sure he was obeying Mama. Then I went downstairs and got so engrossed in a few things I was doing that it was about 30 minutes before I went and checked on him.
Quietly I tiptoed upstairs, hoping beyond hope that he was asleep. And there he was, sitting half naked on the carpet playing puzzles. As soon as he saw me, he smiled up sweetly.
"Hi Mama!" he said with a grin. "Guess what? I went poopy! I flushed it in the toilet!"
I checked the toilet, and his story seemed to be true.
Even though I was frustrated that he wasn't asleep, I was thrilled that he seemed to have gone poop in the potty chair and not in his pull up.
And then came the kicker.
"Mama... " Bennett said, turning sheepish and pointing to the bed, "I got some poopy on that."
I looked down and noticed that his comforter was covered in poop. I began scanning the room, realizing that there was poop everywhere... all over Bennett, the bed and the carpet where he'd been sitting playing puzzles. Then as I walked toward Bennett, I stepped in a wet spot on the carpet.
"Bennett," I said, "Why is the carpet wet?"
"Oh," he said, matter-of- factly, "I went potty on it, Mama."
At this point I saw a soiled pull-up "hidden" behind Bennett's bed. (I put "hidden" in quotes because it was quite a terrible hide-job.)
"Bennett," I asked in my serious Mama voice, "Where did you go poop? In the potty chair or the pull-up?
My sweet boy tried to lie for a moment. I could just see his little wheels turning. But he quickly caved and told me the truth. "In my pull-up, Mama."
What happened next is a blur of baby wipes, carpet cleaner and discussions about being deceptive and how wrong that is.
As calmly as I possibly could, I cleaned and disinfected my son and the carpet. I put the bedding in the wash, put Bennett back in bed and went downstairs.
Then, I caffeinated.
Because sometimes the only thing that can fix your terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day is caffeine. And the grace of God.