This morning while I was cooking bacon, I heard my son shout “Mama, I wiped my own hiney!” This immediately set off alarm bells, and sent me into panic mode, because I haven’t finished training my son how to do this task. Due to years of battling life-threatening illnesses, I am just now teaching him this skill that he should have mastered years ago.
I left the comfort of the kitchen, where the aroma of bacon, and the sounds of Stevie Nicks filled the air. I entered the bathroom where a landslide of shit was everywhere!
I didn’t know where to start. My son held up his poop ridden hands and proudly smiled and said “I did it all by myself.” The half of me that’s in surgical menopause wanted to yell “why didn’t you call me to help you?” The other half of me wanted to burst out laughing. I settled for somewhere in the middle.
As I was cleaning him and the bathroom, I thought life sure is messy.
When you have children you face years of cleaning up poop, puke and pee. It doesn’t end after the toddler years, for many stomach viruses and bouts of the flu await. There are many untidy rooms, dirty dishes, and piles of laundry to contend with.
When you are pregnant no one tells you this. No one tells you that you will spend countless hours scrubbing stains, tiles and tushes. You will perform many thankless tasks and sometimes feel really pissed off about it, and that’s okay. You have permission to be angry, and to commiserate with your friends.
I realized as I was sanitizing poop kingdom that I was truly blessed. I have two wonderful kids to clean up after. Kids who come to me when they need help and tender loving care. Kids whose eyes light up when they see me. Kids who look up to me, and who depend upon me to teach them the skills necessary to succeed in life. Kids whom I adore, poop and all.
When I was finished with the purging of the poop, I replayed ‘Landslide.’ I listened to Stevie sing ‘you climb a mountain, and you turn around.’
I think of how I will clean a mountain of my children’s filth and then turn around- and someday it will all be gone.
My kids will move out of my house and move on. They will take their messes, and my heart with them.
And I will be left reminiscing, and longing for the days of poop, puke and pee for the rest of my life.