That's how I began my day. Crusted poop clinging to the inside of my baby's sleep-sack.
I unzipped it and opened it up to free my infant and was assaulted with the scent of sin.
This is the same face T-Bag was making as I assessed the situation:
So we meet again Poop.......
I looked that poop right in the eye and cursed it's existence.
I fought tears and frustration as I cleaned baby Tyler up for the 565853th time.
I realize that a write about poop more than your average blogger, but my intense hatred of all things poop deserves a platform.
I have to mentally prepare myself every time I change a diaper. I double up on wipes and use a minimum of 10 baby wipes per baby dump.
I get chills up my spine when 3 year old Cryin' Ryan has been grunting in the bathroom and I hear the ominous call, "MAAAMMMMMMMM!!! YOU COME WIPE MY BUTT?!"
I clean my toilets obsessively, as if my salvation was dependent upon the lack poo particles found in my bathrooms.
I cannot accurately describe my rage towards human filth, so maybe the following list will enhance your understanding of my feelings.
Things I would rather do than deal with human feces:
- Quit my job - Which almost happened when I was a teenager working at Taco Bell. Someone shat ALL OVER a bathroom stall, my boss told me to clean it, I told her I will seriously quit that second if I really had to clean it. The boss cleaned it herself.
- Grow out my mustache.
- Eat insects.
- Clean up dead rotting mice - I actually trade my mom, who offered to deal with my kids poop for a few hours if I cleaned out the rat traps in her basement. Best trade ever.
- Have church people stop by my house unannounced, then feel insecure with myself because its 2pm and I'm still in my pajamas.
- Have an adult acne breakout.
- Punch myself in the face.
- Contract a mild strain of Rabies.
Maybe I should go to therapy.
This picture has nothing to do with the post, I just felt that if I'm going to post about poop, a picture of Ryan should be included: