Yeah. So, we’ve had a stomach virus here for about the past week, and today it culminated in one of the most craptastic days in my three year career so far as a mother.
Bad things have been happening.
Bad, bad things.
As I changed the twelfth hellacious diaper of the day, a quaint rendition of an ancient canticle, which was originally written by St. Patrick around 377 AD, popped into my head. Behold:
Poop with me, poop before me, poop behind me,
Poop on me, poop beneath me, poop above me,
Poop on my right, poop on my left,
Poop when I lie down, poop when I sit down,
Poop in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Poop in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,
Poop in the eye that sees me,
Poop in the ear that hears me.
Poop.
Yes. It’s juvenile I know. And?
Seriously though, you know you’ve passed some great milestone in your life as a parent when your child pukes, pees, or poops on you, and your only thought is, “Darn. That was my last pair of relatively clean yoga pants.”
*Sigh!* It’s been a rough day.
