This morning I woke up not feeling too well. Sore throat, stuffy nose, symptoms that make you feel blah. Both boys had been struggling with cold-like symptoms for days,and had coughed off and on all night. So, I decided this would be a good day to take off work and go to the doctor. FYI: Taking both my boys to the doctor at the exact same time is one of my least favorite things to do. It's right up there with cleaning poop-splosions...which I got to do later in this same day...don't you worry. (It wouldn't be a story without poop, right?) And because we're lucky like this, it always seems to be the on-call doctor that we have to see each time we decide to visit the clinic. Us and about a hundred other people. Which means a much-longer-than-normal wait.
So, I dressed both boys and attempted to get them in the car on time, wiping Keaton's runny nose the entire way there on his shirt sleeve, my shirt sleeve...anything I could find at the moment. And of course once we were all in the car, Cale decided he needed to go to the bathroom. Why in the world he didn't figure this out five seconds ago...I don't know? Try asking a three-year old. You won't get very far past, "I just now had to go". Funny thing is, even when they're second graders, the excuse is still the same.
We made it to our appointment on time, amazingly. I was armed with little more than two sippy cups, which the boys had already pretty much chugged on the way to the doctor, and a bag of goldfish crackers. Thank goodness for those goldfish. After about twenty minutes of waiting, I opened the bag and I don't think Keaton stopped eating for more than a couple minutes the rest of the time we were there. I'm pretty sure when the nurse finally called us back, we left a nice mess of smashed crackers in the carpet. To be honest, I'm surprised there were any crackers left on the carpet because Keaton spent much of his time crawling under the chairs and picking up any stray he could find and...throwing it in the trash. Okay, well actually he was eating the fish and I know this was well past the five-second rule but cut me some slack. At the doctor's office, with two little ones, who were already in a bad mood before we ever left the house, and only one bag of goldfish to share between the two of them...it's all about survival. And if that means letting your kid eat off the floor, and pretending you don't notice...then so be it.
We probably waited a total of an hour and fifteen minutes (and they were busy so I'm not complaining) and by the end...I was tired. Of course I ended up not going to the doctor myself because after that...I didn't think I had it in me to sit in another waiting room with my two kids. Plus we were out of drink and crackers. Word of advice: Never go somewhere expected to wait with your kids if you don't have snacks or drinks. Don't do it. Don't. Just be sick. It's actually less painful.
On the way home, I put the pedal to the metal with only one thing on my mind. Nap time was near. Lunch first. But then the blessed nap time. A time when both kids are sleeping, the house is quiet, and I can do whatever I want. I usually end up cleaning during this time, but still, it's quiet. No screaming. No tears. Well, once they fall asleep, no screaming or tears. It's a sacred time.
After about twenty minutes had gone by, while I was attempting to clean out our closet, I heard a door shut. Since Keaton has yet to climb out of his crib, thank the Lord, I knew this was our three-year old, Cale.
I was a little annoyed because he still wasn't asleep. Plus he apparently was out of his bed which he knows is not supposed to happen. So, I headed that way to give him a "stern talking to". The minute I stepped into the hallway between the boys' bedrooms I could smell it. An unbelievably strong smell of poop. A smell strong enough that even in those few seconds I realized that it must be in multiple places. My heart sank. Literally sank as I stepped on into Cale's room. I couldn't see him at first, but then he stepped out of his closet. His hands were covered. There were multiple spots on the floor. There were places on his rug. I could see hand prints on the wall in a few places. I was speechless, partly for lack of the words to say and partly for fear of the words I might possibly say in that moment. All I could think of was Why? Haven't we been through this before? It's like a reoccuring bad dream. The poop-mare.
Cale told me that it was an accident, which is his excuse for everything bad that he does. Then he informed me that it was on some of his shirts. He had been in his closet when I first walked in. Greaaat. Still unable to say much I grabbed him up, took him to our bathroom, and put him in our jacuzzi tub. I began cleaning him, while the water was still cold. Of course he hated it, but in that moment I didn't have much sympathy. The water turned warm after a minute or two and I made him stay there while I went to clean up the mess.
Long story short. It was in so many places I can't even tell you. Door handles, light switches, the bathroom counter, sink, and faucet where he'd attempted to clean his hands up by himself. The cute little blue bucket that I keep beside the sink to store lotions and such was now filled with dirty, wet tissues. So bleach, water, the Shark steam mop, and I had a meeting in a Cale's room and bathroom. This was supposed to by "my" time. My me-time. I'll admit it. I wanted to throw a tantrum.
If you've read any of my blogs you're probably thinking, "Didn't almost this exact same thing happen before. Like more than once?" Why yes, you are correct. And yes, Cale is older now. Absolutely too old to be doing things like that. Welcome to my world. Sometimes it stinks.
We keep saying that things will get easier the older the boys get. But, I remember saying that exact thing about a year ago. And I would say things are harder now than ever. But, they're also better than ever. The boys, aside from all the bad, crazy moments, are so funny right now. They make us laugh constantly. This kind of makes up for all the other things they do. The yelling, the screaming, the crying, the fighting, the being-way-too-loud-in-public, the mess making, the...pooping. It really is all worth it.
