What? I Don't See Anything...

Although my husband works in sewage collections for his job, I sometimes wonder if I don't spend more time dealing with "sewage" than he does. It seems like with two kids in diapers and one who needs at least some assistance on the toilet, I've grown pretty accustomed to dealing with messes of this type.

Judah is potty training right now, and I've of the school of thought that instead of focusing 100% of your attention on potty training for like a week and doing nothing else (who has time for that, after the first kid, anyway?!), just let the little buggers run around naked from the waist down and be willing to clean up a few (daily) accidents until they figure out how to go on the toilet. Okay, well it's not quite that primitive, but you get the idea.

Anyway, Judah is potty training. He's been going pee on the toilet since about 18 months (I know that's not some sort of record but it's pretty good for our house) but the poop issue is... challenging, shall we say. Thankfully he's a pretty regular "morning pooper" so I know if we get that business taken care of first thing in the a.m. we should be good for the day.

Well the other day I had put him in underwear before his morning job had happened, intending to take him to the toiled later. You know where this is going, right?

I got distracted (what, me? Distracted? Never!!) and next thing I know I'm hearing,

"Mama, poop! Mama, poop!" I run outside (the kids were playing in our lovely new yard) and see a hefty-sized "deposit" on the front steps. Right on the mat, boom. Like how your cat sets a dead mole on your mat, "here, this is for you!"

I grab Judah and bundle him into the tub, mumbling something about "we always go poop in the toilet, right?" but knowing it's more my fault for not taking him earlier. As I'm bathing him I hear the dog start barking and someone knocking on the door. Yes.

I run to the door and there's two Comcast guys, come to install our cable. Standing at my front door, politely pretending not to notice the um, "specimen" on the mat or the pungent fragrance. What do I do? Explain what happened and hope they have kids and understand? Pretend I don't know anything about it? I opt for the latter and show them to the back yard where they have to dig. Then I quickly clean up the pile and put some paper towels and a rock over the residue so Richard can spray it off when he gets home. (The hose was not hooked up yet and I didn't even know where the spigot was, nor did I want to look for it. I did the pile, right? The least Richard can do is clean off the mat...)

So yeah, that's my day. Sometimes I wonder when poop will stop playing such a starring role in my life. Not only is it gross, it can be really embarrassing too, I'm finding out.