Do you participate in any fun Twitter hashtag parties? I’ve tried a couple, because I am not shy and I need some sort of social contact with human adults after being home with small children all day. Y’all get me?

Small humans are a lot.

(And yes, I adore them, and YES, I know I am privileged to be able to stay home).

Let me tell you a story about a recent day in a life as a mom of three. Warning, this might make you gag. If you don’t like to hear about poop, just skip to the bottom of the post.

Fair warning.

My two year old is on a nap strike. At the beginning of said strike, I thought to myself, surely he will relent. He’s exhausted. I’ll just put him down and he’ll be fine.

Reader, he was not fine.

He screamed. Then he got quiet.

I thought he was asleep. This was my FIRST MISTAKE.

SPOILER ALERT: He was NOT asleep.

 

I strolled upstairs an hour after I’d put him down to check on him. As soon as I hit the top of the staircase, the entire atmosphere changed.

The smell of poop permeated everything.

The toddler was still quiet.

“Oh shit.” I said to myself. “He’s been sleeping in a poop diaper, poor thing.” Cue mom guilt.

Reader, he was NOT sleeping in a poop diaper.

Oh no. No. No. That would have been TOO easy.

*cries*

I open the door, planning to wake my sweet angel and apologize for leaving him in a stinky number two diaper. Except, he wasn’t asleep.

Toddler smiled at me from the floor. He was as naked as the day he’d been born, and just as dirty.

There was a trail of carefully cultivated clues to the mystery of what he’d been up to scattered all over the room.

It was like Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SMELL AND WHERE IS YOUR DIAPER.”

The changing pad cover fell to the floor, stiff with drying excrement.

A brown rainbow shape had been hand painted with tender care on the walls. At least fifty baby wipes, scattered like not-so freshly fallen snow, all over the floor. The diaper pail, no longer  pristine white.

The toddler? Stank. And so proud. So, so proud.

SHIT WAS EVERYWHERE.

And I had two other children trying to roll up in his room like it was some kind of fucking poop art museum everyone needed to see.

I got him cleaned up, gagged, cleaned the room up, gagged, and then laughed.

But yeah. Sometimes I just need adults. Who don’t spread shit all over the walls.

Which brings me to: #MidWeekMombreak

I have so much fun with Author J.Elle’s #MondayMixer that she helped me come up with another tag to connect with people. (Have I mentioned I need people? I need my people.)

#MidweekMomBreak is going to start tomorrow at 1:00 PM CST! Hump day fun day! We’ll chat about kids, work, writing, food, whatever sounds fun to me. Dads are welcome, obvi, as are childless people. The mom break part is about me, because of said trials and tribulations posted above.

We’ll get silly.

Maybe we’ll be NSFW.

We’ll laugh.

You can bring the cold coffee you still haven’t finished from 8 AM. Got a good poo diaper story? Bring that ish too.

Hope to see you there, at 1:00 PM CST!

And may all your days be less shitty than that^.