The Inevitability of Poop
Everything was going smoothly. Block were creations built. Books read. Children were fed. Diapers changed. Naps taken. Post-nap diapers checked and were dry. Drawing and crafting and trains and reading were happening all over the place.
Then suddenly, an unmistakable odor permeated the air. Signalling to two older kids, we each grabbed a diaper-clad child. Poop. Poop. More poop. Three stinky diapers. At the same time. Along with several loud, rowdy kids singing a chorus of the Dinosaur ABC song at full blast. And craft mess all over the dining room, dirty dishes piled on the counter, and a pile of yet-to-be-dealt-with clean laundry on a living room chair.
Enter Dad to one of the poopers, as if on cue. The odds of him entering at a more chaotic moment incredibly slim.
What must my friends think of me, tv blaring, noisy kids, house a mess, and poopy kids getting diaper changes in three different rooms of the house? Five minutes earlier and he would have entered to children sitting relatively quietly at the table chatting and doing crafts, others building trains and airplanes out of Duplos in the living room, another playing physics games on the computer. Five minutes later and he would have witnessed fort-building and cleaning up craftiness and hysterical laughter at a video of a squirrel playing in a sprinkler.
It used to be that I found myself mortified when friends walked in on such scenes. The realization that my friends would probably laugh (or cry!) right along with me through it all, and that many of them have probably had less than stellar moments in their households as well, has helped me see the humor in and fleetingness of such moments. With the number of children in diapers in my house on any given day, the trifecta of poop was inevitable, right?
I personally think it was a poop conspiracy. The poopers were, after all, just moments before huddled together "reading" to each other in toddler-babble. Perhaps the books were a cover for more covert functions.
Now that everyone is again clean and happy, we go back to our games of Catch the Escaping Baby, In This House We Share, Distract-the-Mama, Flush or Fail?, and I'm Not Tired.
Speaking of I'm Not Tired - I won that one! One point to Mama. Several thousand to the children. But then, that's the point, really. It's on the inevitably crazy days that we make the best memories.