Friday, April 18, 2008

Wouldn't Trade it?

How many times have you heard the expression, "I love being a mom, I wouldn't trade it for the world"? For me, sometimes that takes it too far.

But how about a different perspective: "You think being a mom is stressful, you should try working with the childish people I have to work with all day long! I'd gladly trade you." Sound familiar? Well I challenge both of those statements.

Today I took extra care with my appearance. I am, after all, trying to set a standard of professionalism in my writing, and dressing the part helps me act the part. I did get food on myself at lunch in the cafeteria at Maren's school when Jesse decided to hold his drippy apple crisp over me, but I managed to brush it off fairly successfully.

We came home and I sat outside with my computer to get a little work done on this Friday afternoon. After a solid hour of writing and managing my blog on the patio, I came inside to get ready to get Maren from school.

Did I mention Jesse is in the midst of potty training? This afternoon he has been running around wearing a pair of frog-print undies. This seemed like a good time, since he had already had two messy diapers today. I had to change the undies just before we left, because he didn't yet get the message about only pee-peeing in the potty.

Change the kid, grab a snack, get him out the door, pull it shut behind me... I reached down to brush my shoe clean of whatever I had stepped on during the last few moments. Uh, it was a squished ball of poo. What? Wherever did that come from?? I don't know when I first noticed something stuck to my shoe, but I had covered a lot of ground in a short time.

I ran back inside (sans shoe) to check my tracks. Sure enough, little brown splotches from the bathroom, in the bedroom, through the living room, in the kitchen, right outside the pantry, and leading through the laundry room to the door. On tile, concrete, carpet, and rugs. But still no indication of source.

By this time I was running so late I could not stop any longer. I left the shoes, and Jesse and I left for school--me barefoot, he in a tee shirt, fresh undies, and sandals. We were quite the pair. So much for professionalism.

What most disturbed me, after getting home and cleaning up the spots, was that I still didn't know exactly where this mess had originated. I had been on the patio, but didn't see anything likely out there. I had just been helping Jesse get dry pants on, but that had only been the wet kind of mess.

Still wishing you could trade jobs with a mommy? Hang on, there's more.

We got home, I cleaned up the spots, made sure the kids were okay outside, and sat down to write this little post. Jesse came inside and I suggested he go pee-pee to prevent a repeat of the wet pants episode...

While I generally can handle the mom duties, I have my limits. I have a rule that someone else gets to change the third dirty diaper of the day. And just take a guess what I found when I started to get JJ on the pot. Yep. This day has officially taken me into overtime. Wonder what that's paying these days...

Understanding that one cannot leave a dirty diaper (or undies full of poo) for two hours until the relief diaper-changer comes home, I put the pants directly in the toilet water to swish (go ahead, cringe), and the baby directly in the shower to hose off.

And just like clockwork, the phone rang to tell me that our hosts were on their way home. Of course.

Are your childish coworkers sounding any better? How about your tiring 5-day work weeks? I'd take tomorrow (Saturday) off, but there is no way there is any more poop left in that cannon for the moment. So I'll still be on the job.

I don't actually mind; to tell the truth, even if you wanted my job, you can't have it. I wouldn't trade this job for the world. Really.

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