Adventures in Parenting

Here's a fun little story that I'm sure so many mom's out there will appreciate:

Lately, Collin's been getting up really early. I'm not sure what this is all about. I sort of wonder if he's out growing his nap and as a result, since he's still taking one he's getting up earlier to compensate.  But I could be wrong. Who knows.
Anyway, since he's getting up all kinds of early (like 5:50 am) I've been wrangling him into our bed and trying to sleep a bit longer while he sits three inches from my face asking me questions. Momma, can I have water? Momma, I need breakfast. Momma, where are the squirrels? Momma, why is it dark outside? Meanwhile the only words I'm listening for are "Momma, I have to go potty"- because that really is the ONLY thing that will get me out of bed before 6:30. This morning tussle ends up with me really sleeping something like 10 more minutes, and putting 40 minutes into negotiating how long Collin will sit in bed next to me and try to be quiet so that (a) he doesn't wake up Owen, (b) he doesn't head downstairs and get into all kinds of mischief and (c) I can pretend that my day doesn't start at 5:50 am.
Ish.

But, on one frightful Wednesday morning, I popped up in my bed at 6:30 am. No Collin. I immediately looked at the monitor hoping to see Collin still (somehow miraculously) asleep in his bed. But he's not there. The bed is empty and its very quiet.

Oh God.
What am I going to find?

So, I bolted down the stairs. No Collin on the main floor. And then I hear him coming up the stairs from the basement. As I turn around a tiny little body goes streaking by me into his room.

What was that, exactly?

"Collin, what are you doing?"
"Looking at books, Momma."
"Collin, where are your pajamas?"
"Downstairs by the poop, momma"

Oh, my, freaking sweet mother of Mary and St Francis. What on earth has happened. Oh PLEASE PLEASE don't be the nightmare I'm fairly certain I just walked into. Did he just say POOP. Maybe he meant "Pooh" or "Pooch". Or maybe I'm just ridiculously crazy and he didn't say anything like that at all. Maybe he's just streaking because he thinks its a fun time. Reading in the buff is loads of fun, right?

But then, I find my way back to reality and I ask the awful question that was brooding in my brain.

"Collin, did you have an accident?"

"I just got the pee on the hard floor in the bathroom momma. A a little bit of poop on the carpet, but all the rest is in the bathroom."

UGH. Did my kid just say this out loud? Seriously? I don't know if I should cry or laugh. FOR REAL? Poop on the carpet? We do not have a puppy and thats the only time I can even think of a reasonable approach to the words "Poop on the carpet."

And so, I wander downstairs and there, staring me in the face is a secluded chunk of toddler poop in the middle of my off-white carpet. Yep. Its true. I woke up to SHIT on my carpet.

Still in disbelief and adjusting to the idea that I have to CLEAN UP toddler POOP, I head to the bathroom to see what kind of catastrophe is waiting for me. There on the floor are the zipper pajamas, our white bathroom rug and a purple shower mat spattered with a poop trail from underwear, to pajamas, to rug and towel, to the tile floor. Smushed and spread around as if to document the struggle Collin had as he determined he had to go and couldn't get the zipper pajamas off, because you know, as a toddler zipper pajamas are hard. Its not the zipper part- thats easy, its the getting your arms and legs out, stripping off the pajamas without getting tangled up and falling down, pretty much an all out war against the pajamas. I can just see him now running to the bathroom saying "I have to go POOP! I have to GOOO!, I have to go POOP! POOP! POOP!" and then, at the point of no return, struggling in the pajamas, but realizing that they were not going to come off before arrival of said POOP, and finally, committing to just going ahead and pooping in the half on half off pajamas, dropping it to the floor, struggling out of the rest of the pajamas and then the progressive smearing as he continued to remove his clothes and find his way out of the bathroom. Of course though, not before realizing somewhere along the way that he had to pee too, and so just for additional fun, he let it all go onto the floor since he had already committed to the literal shit storm that surrounded him.

So, then I find myself knee deep and up to my elbows in bleach water and disinfectant to rid my house of POOP at 6:45 a.m.  As I'm scrubbing and cursing under my breath Collin comes in to share a full commentary.

"Momma, I didn't pee on the carpet. I peed in the bathroom by the potty."
"Thanks Collin"
"Just a little bit of poop was on the carpet. Just a little bit."
"Yes Collin" (Dear Collin: NO POOP would have been a whole lot better).
"I wiped by myself momma" (I can only imagine the success of this effort since he can barely even reach behind himself let alone wipe anything with any sense of coordination).
"Congratulations Collin. Are you sure there isn't any poop still stuck to you?"
"No momma, there is just pee on my legs" (OH FANTASTIC!)
"Oh, Collin. Can you just sit on toilet and wait for momma."
"I don't need to sit on the potty momma. I don't have to go anymore." (of course you don't. What was I thinking!)
"Collin are you sure you just peed in the bathroom?"
"And on the purple story bin in the living room" (oh Jesus. More?!?)
"The one from the library, Collin!?!" (please please please don't have peed on the loads of library books in the purple tub. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE).
"And by the chair a little bit. And just on the hippo's foot." (Do I have enough bleach in the whole house?!?, Really can it get any worse?!?)
"What? Get the hippo and show me."- this would be the hippo puppet that the library puts in the zoo story tub Collin currently has. GREAT. I have to somehow explain to the library that our son ruined the whole box of stuff including the puppet because I didn't get out of bed when he woke up to help him go potty.
Yes, folks, line up HERE for the mother of year award, I'm the current keeper.

So, now that the bathroom is clean, I head to the living room with tremendous trepidation. By some grace of God the books are fine. There is no pee actually in the tub, its just next to the tub lid and indeed, is on the hippo's foot. How on earth am I going to wash an ultra delicate bean-bag type puppet with piss on his foot?!? Maybe if I just douse it with FeBreeze we'll get away with it....
Then again, probably not.

As you can probably guess, in my moments of utter disbelief and insurmountable hilarity I didn't actually take any photos. Thank your lucky stars I didn't. But it did cross my mind.
Lucky for you I spared your virgin eyes.

So we cleaned, and cleaned, scrubbed the hippo foot, washed a load of poopy garments. It was super duper fun. I laughed at the end, got Collin dressed, picked up Owen out of bed and as we were heading to the breakfast table I said to Collin, "Guess what Collin"- intending to say we have a new kind of cereal to try if you want, he said before I could respond "I love you momma".
It was a sweet and endearing little bit of happiness and for a moment made me forget about the poop.
Just for a moment.
All before 7 am.