May 8, 2014

there it is.

I'm not sure when exactly it happened.
I mean, most days I feel asleep at the wheel, draining cup after cup of that sweet elixir coffee, just to maintain composure, or keep my eyelids from snapping shut on me.
But somewhere between the sleepless nights and foggy days, I have become solely responsible for everyone's behind business.

I don't remember signing up for this part of parenting.
I mean, where did it ever say that you will required to deal with poop until your kid's about 5? (someone with older kids, please tell me it ends by five or I might go postal over here)

Daily discussions about who's done it or when their going to...

Drawings of it.
Something smelling like it.
Feeling like it.
Please, don't step in it.
Wiping it.
Looking like it.

I'm just tired of it.

My self envisioned single past life now looks even more glamorous. Because, one day poop happens, and you'll wonder how you ever lived without a lifetime supply of baby wipes on hand.

The glorification of a bodliy function has turned me into a back end micromanager. I officially know too much.

And now maybe you do too.
There it is.

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