Today was an exciting day (said in a sarcastic tone). It takes so little to entertain me these days. I don't get out and see the world much any more. I remember when I was out in the world -- the corporate world. I worked alongside a lot of different characters: the chatty office gossiper, the cheating womanizer, young single go-getter, technically challenged grandmother, the homosexual with a perfectionism complex, and many others. (So as to not appear self-righteous, I could've been filed as the girl with OCD). But lately here at home the drama presents itself in a variety of other shapes and forms.
Another mom brought her two children over to our house today for a play date. It was probably more of a play date for me than it was for L because I had a grown-up to talk with and L usually avoids children her age except when they get in her way of acheiving her agenda. Her agenda today consisted of playing in the bathroom sink full of water for hours on end. Unfortunately, we can't all fit inside the tiny half-bath downstairs -- we tried. So we all left L to her water play while we went to the family room where the toys reside. When L finally decided to come join us in the living room, she began complaining about her diaper. Her "complaining" usually takes on the form of high-pitched whining that causes the neighbor's dog to run and hide. Lately I've been making a conscious effort to ignore her whines in hopes that she'll use real words in a tolerable tone to communicate with me.
Meanwhile, I had been caring for S who had become a little sleepy and fussy. And since he hardly ever fusses, I try to be diligent at tending to him when he does fuss. For a few minutes I started feeling really good about my mothering skills -- patiently ignoring my toddler's whiney demands while giving my fussy, attention-starved infant a little TLC. Then suddenly "good feelings gone!" I turned my attention to a dark brown smear on the living room carpet. I'm not sure how it happened, but I will relay the facts as I remember them: (1) L's clothing was completely gone, (2) she was wearing a poopie diaper that had gone askew, (3) her butt-cheeks (excuse my French) were exposed and covered in...well...you-know-what, and (4) a poopie-colored spot was smeared onto the carpet. I handed carpet cleaner to the other mom and I whisked L upstairs to get her cleaned up.
Poopie happens! We moms have to stick together because no one can face poopie day in and day out without getting a little depressed. It sure makes a huge difference when you have other moms to laugh with.