What has my life come to? Holy Christ!
We are potty training, which really means I am doing laundry every night, finding convincing ways to manipulate–I mean motivate– my child to wash her hands when she’s done, and dreaming of the day when we don’t have to spend loads of dough on something for my kid to shit in.
The other day Sofia had an accident (which, let’s face it, is totally not an accident but an oversight meant to destroy my life) and her piss splashed on my foot. No fucking lie. Pee. On my foot.
I have been a very tolerable and gracious mom about all things liquid coming from my child from puke to poop to drool to ABC food, but this really grossed me out. I mean, it’s not like I could take a shower right there or put my foot in the sink to wash like my hands. After all we’ve been through for two-and-a-half years, this is where we end up.
So my kid pees on me. What I cannot get her to do–in her diaper or on the toilet is poop. It’s like she belongs to a cult of athiest non-poopers. I am not sure why I am making that connection, but it seems right. This anti-movement movement has been as far back as I can remember–when she was an infant I distinctly remember hovering over her, crying, and praying to God that if he would make her poop, I would find religion again.
So now I am an athiest. Okay not really, but I have become General Sneaky Fiber. My kid eats Fiber whole grain toast, fiber pop-tarts, fiber (11 grams!) granola bars. If there is any fiber product out there, my kid is eating it. It should be noted here that any of nature’s solutions for this my child declines to eat. Prunes or leafy greens–denied!
Eventually, once a week or so, after many tears and lamentations, Sofia will drop a load so big that I cannot even flush it down the toilet without clogging it up. It is, conservatively, a giant softball sized poopball. I have no idea how it even gets out of her little pinhole of an anus. It’s actually kind of impressive…
And this is why I got peed on, but I am praying for poop.