Sh*t Happens…

Just thought I’d share a little bit about the day I had today. 
Everything started out sunny and happy.

I mean, look at that face.  That’s a happy kid if I ever saw one.

But not even three hours later…

The shit hit the fan. It quite literally hit the fan. 

Yes, people, that’s poop.

So, he pooped in the high chair, big deal, right? Poop in the high chair isn’t the worst thing. I mean, shit happens, right?  In my kid’s defense, he hasn’t had a real, legit blow-out poop in quite awhile.  

I decided to just roll with it.  Not to brag, but I can handle a poop explosion with the best of ’em.

I stuck him in the tub, stripped off all the poopy clothes, and drew a bubble bath. It was the easiest and least messy approach.  Plus, he loves to take a bath.

All was well after bathtime, well except for a minor fit when it was time to get out of the water, but that’s pretty typical for my kid. 

After all that, I still had everything under control. I even sent my husband a funny picture text of the shit story.  He responded, and we had a good laugh.

After Monk was dressed, I decided to conquer the poop. I dreaded it, but got the rags and cleaning supplies ready to clean up the high chair. I was just about done, when I looked over at my toddler who had been previously playing on the kitchen floor with his tonka truck, to see him man-handling my glass blender with one hand. I screamed in horror, he laughed at first, and then as I lunged at him, he got scared and dropped it.  The glass shattered everywhere.


Monk started crying, because I was basically having a heart attack.  Luckily, I whisked him away in time, so no glass in any little hands or feet. We successfully avoided a trip to the ER…so there’s that.

After cleaning up the glass and poop, I was spent, seriously spent.  So, I put on Curious George, which I hate to do, because everyone puts the fear of God in us moms about letting babies watch tv.

But whatever. George is happening. 

Cookies are happening.

Coffee (for me) is happening. 

And I’m praying that shit like that doesn’t happen for a very, very long time.

The end.