Sunday, January 2, 2011


Anyone out there with babies, toddlers, or preschoolers? Do you fondly remember the days when you could have a conversation with your old college friends that didn't involve talking about your kid's poop? [sigh] Me neither. When you and your friends all decide to independently procreate at the same time, it's bound to happen.

Tonight my husband passed me in the hall. I had just finished putting down Rachel, and he was with Eric. We had come back from a friend's house only 30 minutes before. They have cats. I am allergic to cats. What I'm not allergic to is Benedryl. And what I found out tonight is you can take several Benedryl and not feel the effects while in an allergenic environment, but as soon as you leave said environment you are as high as a kite.

"There was poop in the tub, Jen."
"Huh?" I look at John with glazed eyes, drool pooling around my lips.
"Rachel must have pooped in the tub. There was only a little bit."
"OK. I'll bleach the tub." It's amazing how mellow I get about cleaning when doped up on medication.

John returned to Eric's room. I went to the laundry room and got the bleach. As I'm standing over the tub I do what any normal obsessive-compulsive parent would do: I look for signs of poop. Surely there must be some here. I don't see any. Well, whatever. I already have the bleach and the tub could use a cleaning. I clean the tub about once every vernal equinox. And the kids' toys could use a cleaning. I turn on the hot water, throw the toys in, scrub down the tub. I pass John in the hall afterwards.

"John, I didn't see any poop in the tub." John thinks anything remotely brown that's floating around in there must be poop. But I know how often I clean, so I'm betting on mold.
John replied, "I saw some on the mat so I wiped it up."*
So much for my mold theory. I'm too stoned on Benedryl to care about cleaning, but I can't help but think how different one's life is with toddlers. Before I had kids I never thought I would pick anyone's nose but my own, or willingly hold someone who was vomiting on me. 10 years ago I was celebrating New Year's in a bar. Now I'm lying in bed cursing the neighbors who bought fireworks. Ten years from now I'll have a teenager. Oh Lord... A teenager??!!

Life is going by way too fast for my taste.

*For those of you without kids yet, you don't want to know what he used to wipe it up with.

1 comment:

Kristie said...

What a fabulous post. He didn't use toilet paper? :D

I can't imagine people without kids even thinking about picking your children's noses once they are past that little squeezy-syringe thingy. Although that rarely worked for my three so there was always some follow-up pulling and wiping going on anyway. And the poop. Oh, the poop. Well, just as long as you don't find yourself in a situation where you are surveying the damage and trying to scrutinize what is poop and what is Nutella. . .

Hope you are enjoying your snow. :)