Having kids includes a lot of things; early mornings, nights with no sleep, endless memories, countless smiles, and poop. Lots of fucking poop. Even when you think you can be a normal person for a few hours, you can never escape your kids,
and their crap, literally.
The Prefect Beach Trip
It’s extremely rare when I get to escape and not take my nuggets with me, but when I do, it is pretty fantastic. So here we go, finally getting to take a trip to the beach with just my books and a great friend. Of course that didn’t go smoothly. Plans changed a billion times before actually getting to the beach, but we finally made it. Grabbing towels out of the car, and rushing to the warm sand. We start setting up our stuff and break out our books. While I was in such a hurry, I ended up grabbing one of my daughters blankets. “Whatever”, I thought, it makes for more cushion. Laid it out, plopped down on it, and started reading.
Nothing is Perfect
How perfect was this, laying on the beach, nose deep in a book, sun tanning my awful pale skin. The best part not having to worry about the baby eating sand, or what strangers my toddler was talking to. But of course, being as it’s life, that thought of everything being perfect slowly faded when we got attacked by fire ants. Yup, ants. On the beach. Who would have thought? Not us! So, we get up, and move our towels down when my friend looks at the blanket I’ve been laying on and says, “Is that poop?!”
HOLY MOLY. Yup, that sure is poop.
You know when there is that split second you have a thought about it possibly being chocolate, and praying it is? Yeah, that didn’t happen here. The memory of the awful poop explosion before the doctors visit when the nurse had to help me clean my baby off because it was that bad, WITHOUT a change of clothes might I add, came flooding back into my mind in that very moment.
Poop is Everything
I had been laying on the blanket for probably a good hour before the fire ants. I casually responded with a simple, “yup, that’s poop.” I wadded the blanket up, and threw it aside. From there I sat my happy ass back down on that warm beach sand, and enjoyed the sun, my book, and the moments where I didn’t have to worry about my nuggets. Let’s face it, as a parent, it’s not the first NOR the last time I’ll be touching my kid’s poop.
I know I’m not the only one with poop stories, so share them in the comments!