This afternoon my daughter exacted revenge for neglecting to expedite the cleanup following her kitchen vomit episode last week. This morning she regurgitated her pancakes on the kitchen floor and then cried out for assistance. As I rushed to scoop her up I slid on the sloppy vomit and ended toe up in a big pile of partially digested banana pancakes. I do promise to never leave her to stew in her own refuse again. I shall hence forth scoop up any extraneous bodily fluids at first sight and dispose of them immediately.
Archive for the ‘Kids’ Category
Something Smells Like Shhhhh
25
May
This morning Max walked up to me, shoves his finger up under my nose and says, “SMELL THIS!” It smelled like shit. I don’t mean it smelled bad, it actually smelled like poop. I checked his pants, which were clean, scrubbed his hands and then began searching for what I was sure would be a steaming pile of poop somewhere on my white carpet.
I couldn’t find the poop.
I asked Max where it was and he said “In a wiving woom”. So I checked the living and found several suspicious areas. I began crawling around on my hands and knees, nose glued to the carpet inhaling deeply trying to find the area.
An hour after I’d dragged the damn carpet shampooer from spot to spot Max shoved his finger under my nose again, and asked me to take a sniff. It did not, in fact, smell like the soap I’d used to scrub his hands. It smelled like poop. He claimed the living room was the source again, so I got very serious. I pulled up couch cushions, magazines and moved side tables. When Connor got off the school bus he thought we’d been robbed. Everything we owned was upside down, inside out and in the middle of the room. I still couldn’t find the poop.
Frustrated, I stood in the living room cursing myself for not finding the gift that I would be sure to discover when I either sat in it or the baby shoved a load in her mouth. Max wandered in and I asked one more time where he was getting the nasty finger smell. He smiled, dropped trow, bent over and shoved his finger in between his butt cheeks, pulled it out and then took a sniff of his poo coated finger as if it were a candy bar.
My son is huffing his own poop. On the bright side, I can put the shampooer away.
You Know When…
23
May
You know you’re a Mother of Three when you see that your infant is playing in a pool of her own vomit and instead of rushing to clean her up you reach for the camera, snap a quick picture, and then return to cooking without even pausing for a mop up.
