The Poop & Shower Disaster

Showering with a toddler is an adventure on a good day. Firstly, you can’t just jump in whenever you please, it has to be planned. Gone are the days when you can stick baby in the rocker just outside the door. Now you’ve gotta shower during naptime (If you aren’t napping too, or catching up on dishes), when Dad’s home to supervise, or risk it all and shower when toddler is awake. You never know what disaster could unfold. More specifically, what poop disaster will more than likely occur.

Especially when you are potty training.

Today was the ultimate poop and shower disaster. I couldn’t remember the last time I had showered, an unfortunate confession for toddler moms, and I was days overdue. I prepared the fortress: PBS playing on the tv, the baby gate closed in the hallway. And, like always, the portable potty sat in the corner of the living room.

I started the water and felt the temperature rise. Unlike coffee, which is always drank cold, the shower is my one moment of warm solace. Unless she comes in with me, which happens every 3rd or 4th attempt to shower when she is awake. That results in the water temperature matching the temperature of my coffee.

I stripped down, pulled back the shower curtain, and…

MOMMY, POO POO!

The toddler yelled from the other room. I paused, and considered stepping into the shower anyway. She has been good with the potty lately, so the likelihood of it being on the floor was low. But she’s only been consistent for about a week. She not only wants praise when she goes on the potty, but also expects two mini M&Ms. And she often wants me to inspect the poop. And clean her butt.

In my most natural form, I journeyed into the living room where a fresh pile of steaming poop in the potty. Three cheers for Mommy and two M&Ms for Miss Sassy. I noted that it was a little wetter than normal, as I tried to dump it into the toilet and required an extra smack on the bowl. This explained an earlier complaint of belly ache.

Replacing the potty to the seat, I returned to the bathroom and commenced my moment of peace. There is only so much dry shampoo can do.

One. Two. Three. Four Five. That’s all I got.

MOMMY! MORE POOPY!

Not right now, child. Mommy is peeling back three days of grime and rinsing out oil and bug spray from her hair. You will get the M&M when I’m finished.

lockig
This is not me. #HotMessMom

MOMMY MOMMY!

The calls were closer this time. She had carried the little potty into the bathroom and was now attempting to dump the poop into the toilet. But unlike the “wetter than normal” poop I dumped (well she dumped, I dumped out), this poop was “wetter than that”. Her bowl smacking aim isn’t the best on good days, and my poor bath mat has absorbed far beyond its weight in urine showers in the past.

But this was not urine. This was very wet, very sticky, extremely stinky poop. Plus side, I couldn’t smell the litter box. Actually that isn’t a plus at all! With each smack of potty insert on the toilet, she slingshot poop every which direction, hitting the sink, and the mirror, and the shower curtain protecting my soapless yet still almost clean body.

Channeling my super human speed, I dodged the poop bullets and reached through a slit in the shower curtain to grab the potty. NO MOMMY, she screamed. Unwavered, unclothed, and unafraid, I balanced on the side of the tub and tried not to slip and die, as I rinsed off the potty with my glorious hot water.

Meanwhile, toddler ran into the living room, butt covered in poop, probably to sit on my couch or wipe on the pillow. Thank goodness for the baby gate in the hallway, our bed pillows would not be the victim this time.

Was there time for soap?

YOLO.

I closed the toilet lid, put the potty on the seat, and shampooed my hair. Not today, dry shampoo.

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