30 fingers&toes

"Are they triplets?" "No, I found the other one in the parking lot and thought, 'why not?'"

I’m done adulting/parenting for today

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This post is brought to you by the letter “P” and the colour Brown.

 

I have just put the kids to bed and I’m loading the dishwasher, then the following happens.

 

Isabelle: Mmmmmoooooooommmm!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: Yes??????

Isabelle: Uh, my poop won’t go down the toilet!!!!!!!!!!

Me: ……………………I had no appropriate words for this so I chose to remain silent for a moment. Then asked if the water was going to overflow the toilet.

Isabelle: The water goes down, but my poop won’t!!!

poop

Me: FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKK!!! (Said in my head, but I’m pretty sure the expression on my face said enough.)

If it wasn’t for the fact that I don’t want to make all my reader vomit on their computers, I’d post the photo I took of the massive turd my eight year old managed to birth from her tiny butthole. I took a photo to send to the husband as he’s not home tonight. I sent the photo because of his “ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha” comment he sent me when I texted him the problem I was faced with.

First thing I do is send the children back to bed. Yes, they all had to come and have a good look at the poop baby that just came out of Isabelle’s butt. She had to retell the story to them despite the fact that they all heard her telling me the problem the first time around. In fact, if the weather permitted open windows the neighbours would have heard about her enormous poop baby.

Next, I decide to go get a plastic bag. An arms length of paper towels (unnecessary yes, but I am taking no risks here), and one of the many dollar store paint brushes we seem to own. Then I head back upstairs to the wedged poop baby in the toilet.

clog

Clenching my jaw together, so I don’t vomit, I use the handle end of the paint brush to turn the poop, immediately wrap the paint brush in all the paper towels, put in plastic bag, tie several knots in the bag, flush toilet. Now the fucking thing is stuck going down. I plunge the toilet that is filling with murky poop water, still clenching my jaw as not to vomit. Success! Poop baby has been flushed! Clean up and take plastic bag out to the garbage in the garage.

First thing going on shopping list for tomorrow: foods with more fibre for Isabelle. Now, this girl is done. The kids will just have to survive whatever happens between now and tomorrow morning when the alarm goes off at 6:45am, adulting/parenting time is over. Bring on the pj’s and Netflix!

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Author: 30fingersandtoes

Parenting and adulting is hard. There is no manual. No volume control. No self cleaning house and self refilling fridge. This is my story of navigating through the ups and downs of our crazy-wonderful life.

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