“MOOOMMMMM…Carson pooped on the floor!” I grab a plastic bag and walk up the stairs, mentally preparing myself to stay calm. I take one look into the room and scream, “CARSON! Bad Boy.”
Even as I type this my teeth clench and my heart races. There is poop everywhere. It’s on the rug. It’s on the carpet. It’s on the chair, sheets, TV, controllers, toys, feet, face, walls, closet and any surface available in the bedroom.
I try to count to ten before my first step in poop and only make it to three. A red haze has covered my eyes and I hear myself scream and then start crying. All I hear myself say is “It never ends.” Just that night, Carson took off his sleep diaper and peed through his shorts, comforter, sheets, mattress pad, and mattress. I was still washing everything from the night before when the poop incident occurred, and it sent me over the edge.
While stripping the bed and rolling up the rug, I pray to God for patience and love. I know in my heart I should not be upset with my son, he is only 2. I sanitize and walls, TV, and controllers and thank the Lord for the blessings I have. I control my breathing…in…out…in…out as I scrub the poop out of the carpet.
Lastly, I throw myself and my son into the shower to clean the last of the poop and Carson hugs me and says “I’m sorry, Mommy. I love you.” The last bits of anger dissolve into the water and the red haze is gone. I love my son, poop and all.
(While writing this post, Carson pooped outside in his Easter outfit. I couldn’t help but laugh at his impeccable timing.)