And the award for best (aka worst) parenthood story goes to….
When we were pregnant with Grace, one of our friends gave us some great advice about how to approach parenthood as a couple. She said, “Don’t keep score with your spouse.” She went on to explain that parenthood is not a situation where you and your spouse are competing or keeping score. Like, if you were the one who was home when your infant projectile vomited all over your church outfit and you had to clean it up by yourself, you can’t hold that over your spouse’s head and be like, “Now you have to change the poops for a week.” Parenthood is messy and we all get our fair share of having to be the cleaner-upper. It could have easily been Seth who ended up being 25 minutes late to church because he had to change his outfit at the last minute and then realized that the outfit Grace just threw up all over was the last clean “church outfit” he had that fit his post-pregnancy body…But it wasn’t him was it. It was me. And you know what? That’s not his fault.
But on the other side of it, I can say with a proud sense of accomplishment that I have never been peed on by one of my kids. There’s been the occasional leak that seeped out onto my pants (that time it happened when I was AT church…) but he’s the one who has gotten the bare bottom spray of pee all over his shirt. Miraculously enough, he’s also the only one who has gotten the privilege of cleaning up all the bathtub poops. It’s fine though because since I stay home with them that means I get to do all the daytime poopies, so we’re good. We’ve got a good balance and know how to “take one for the team”.
We tried to take my friend’s advice and not keep score in an unhealthy way. However, we were still able to joke with one another if we ever felt like we needed just a little acknowledgement or credit for the most recent gross thing we had to do. For example, there was a time right before Christmas when I was about to walk out the door and enjoy un-interrupted adult alone time. I had barely taken one step outside the frame of the door when I heard Seth cry out from the bathroom that he had yet another bathtub full of poop. I hesitantly turned back in toward the house (the poop-filled side) and as I was about to offer to stay back and help, he popped his head around the corner and said with an overdramatic flare, “Just go babe. Just go.” He knew that we would be joking about it for the next week and that he had been the hero to take the fall alone while I got to go eat Chick-Fil-A waffle fries ALL BY MYSELF. So, I made sure to give Seth some much deserved credit for tackling PoopGate 2016 and being the hero who saved Mommy’s magical Christmas shopping day.
Even though he appreciated the adoration, we both knew there was nothing that would ever dethrone me from what happened last spring. It would take a lot more than a floating turd to relinquish my crown. Those fateful seconds last May forever solidified my ranking as the one in our marriage who has the best (aka worst) parenthood story. No bathtub stink or pee soak would ever top “the incident”.
Seth had taken our daughter out for a date and I remember I had been attempting to finish the last few dishes in the sink. But of course, my babe who never wants to be more than five feet away from me wasn’t havin' it. He came waddling over and started pulling on my leg, begging for my attention. As I looked down at his little face that was beaming back up at me I realized, wait a second, I have JUST Emmett right now which means I can give him one-on-one attention and just ENJOY his presence. Peace out dishes. I’ll see ya later. I instantaneously melted down to the floor and he crawled up into my lap. As I sat down I felt my phone dig into my side so I quick grabbed it out of my pocket. I started to set my phone on the counter and then thought it would be funny to send a couple Snapchats to my family. Emmett seemed to be relishing in his recent victory for my attention and was in the perfect mood for a couple silly videos. As I started recording little ten second clips of us I kept laughing hysterically as he hammed it up. He was feeding off my laughter and started slobbering and squealing into the screen. I giggled even more as I realized that he still had leftover peanut butter smeared on his cheek from dinner. He was quite the sight.
I glanced down at my phone to select the people I was going to send the Snapchat to. I was a little distracted as I clicked the different names and right before I pressed the “send” button I felt something lightly brush my cheek. I thought to myself, oh gross. Emmett probably just wiped some spit on me..or worse, some of the peanut butter that was smeared on his face. Ew. I quickly sent off the snapchat and as I glanced up at Emmett I saw him standing face-to-face with me…with his hand down the back of his pants. He then pulled out his hand and extended it to me.
It was in that moment I realized…. I had poop on my face.
The award for best story goes to me.
I forever and always win.
Blessings,
Shantastic aka Poopface
**********************************************
What’s your best (aka worst) story?? Does it top mine?? Share it below in the comments or find me on Instagram @TotallyShantastic (Or if you know me on Facebook, let me hear it! Do you get the crown in your family for the best story??)
FOLLOW BY EMAIL: Enter your email address in the box on the top right to get new posts sent directly to your inbox! Your address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time!
No comments:
Post a Comment