jack's first shower.

alternate titles for this post included: "where did that poop come from?" (the discovery channel version) or "on my knees, sniffing around: the tale of a sunday morning gone wrong" (the nightline special title) or "poop: the untold story" (the mtv special title) or "he had to poop" (the lifetime title).

it being several weeks into 2012, i've been trying to put together a list of things (twelve things, in fact) that i'd like to accomplish this year. not resolutions per se, which is not to say that i think i'm above resolutions or that i don't need them... far from it... it's just that i wanted it to be a little bit more general than all that.

anyway, that's what this post was going to be about... my twelve things. and then one very interesting thing happened. so that's what this is about instead.

jack and i were doing our usual weekend "what should we make for breakfast" dance when i realized i didn't have the right ingredients on hand to make our go-to buttermilk pancake recipe. not to be deterred, i tebow'ed it at the last minute, and modified a french toast recipe, which jack seemed to really enjoy. so i gave myself a mom point, sat down with some coffee and was about to eat a piece of the toast i'd prepared while jack played on the floor. and then i smelled it.

the unmistakable odor of the bowel movement of a child who is no longer a baby, but approaching toddler-dom. talk about loss of appetite. i scooped jack up to head down to the laundry room to grab a clean diaper out of the dryer. he had been in a disposable since we have some to use up from vacation, and i had used the opportunity to strip my cloth diapers. as i took a few steps toward the basement door, i stepped in... a pile of poop.

except that i didn't realize it at first. between jack and the dogs, i have to be honest with you, there are often piles of unrecognizable substances on my kitchen floor. and i guess i assumed that i had stepped on a piece of jack's french toast that he had thrown to the dogs. except that i realized it was not quite the right consistency, and i looked down to inspect and realized: AHHHH the horror! poop in between my toes!

but i am carrying my son down the basement stairs, and i cannot very well drop him and clean my foot, and so i suck in my breath very hard and yell, "ewwwww, shit!" to which jack replied, "DIT!" "no, no, no, don't say that, mommy is bad," i'm mumbling as we reach the bottom of the stairs, and i set him down. i hobble to the bathroom to wash the poop off my foot, wondering how the hell poop got on the floor, and who is responsible for this? jack? kingsley? gracie? (the dogs?) meanwhile, jack has been carrying some tools from his workbench around, and he opens the toilet in the basement bathroom and triumphantly throws them all inside.

i pick up jack and survey the scene. the fit of the disposable diaper on jack is not as tight as i would like, and it appears that a load of poop escaped the side. i don't quite know how, but what i can see is that there is poop all over his legs and the inside of his pants. i then make the executive decision that jack is going to enjoy his first shower. i plop him in the basement shower stall and spray him off... and he laughs and giggles, loving the whole experience.

when he's all clean, we head back upstairs and i get down on my hands and knees to find the original source of the poop. i'm sniffing and crawling and trying to be thorough about the whole thing. jack thinks this is some kind of a game in which mom tries to be a dog/horse/pig, so he begins to crawl behind me and make exaggerated sniffing noises, too. he's laughing and giggling and you see, this is like my son's best. day. ever. he got to enjoy a romp in a sprinkler and gets to play the animal game with mommy.

i am thoroughly confused as i can't find the original place where the poop was dropped. i do have a jute rug in my kitchen, the color of which is eerily similar to that of the poop, so i carefully inspect every inch, squinting intently and sniffing as i go. jack is really loving it at this point, hysterically laughing and pretending to pet me as i crawl around. as i make my way to the other side of the kitchen, jack hugs me and mimics my sniffing. we both sit on the floor laughing... because what else can you do in such a shitty situation? hahaha, ohhh, the things john misses when he decides to sleep in on a sunday.

one of my twelve things? laugh at myself, especially in the midst of moments like this one!