When you become a mommy, it’s understood that a lot more poop is going to come into your life. Brown poop, runny poop, hard poop, green poop—you get it all. But I got something a little extra on the way to work the other morning.
I was actually heading to work early on a Monday (cue audible gasp), and as I was packing all our bags and my son into the car, I smelled something a little off. I thought maybe it was O’s super cute jacket I bought from a local secondhand store. I washed it though, so I wasn’t sure why it would be smelly. (Conspiracy theories started brewing: That’s why they sold this super cute coat for so cheap! It stinks! No matter what you do! I can’t believe I wasted my money!) The odor wasn’t overwhelming, so I calmed down and went along my way.
As we were on the freeway headed to work (still early!) I remembered I had forgotten to give O some pain reliever. He has been getting his molars (I think—all signs point toward yes, but I can’t really tell. He won’t open his mouth far enough for me to count), and had bit someone at daycare on Thursday. I wanted to make sure to try to ease his pain and prevent any bites, if possible, so I decided to stop at Meijer and pick up some children’s ibuprofen. As I was carrying O to the store, I smelled “that smell” again. Figuring it surely must be O’s coat (those sneaky secondhanders!), I thought I’d get some fabric refresher (Meijer’s brand—Jump! Why is it named Jump?), and spray his coat once we got back to the car.
As I was checking out, I FINALLY noticed where the smell was coming from. Not O’s coat—but his SHOE. He had stepped in a steaming pile of dog poo on his way to the car this morning. GIR-OSS. I’ve actually never stepped in dog poop before. I’ve have stepped on shitberries (TM Sue)–those weird stinky berries that fall from ginkgo trees–but never actual poop. Shitberries don’t stick to your shoes. Dog poop does.
I wasn’t sure what to do. I contemplated asking the window washer lady if I could borrow some of her paper towels, but figured I had something in the car to clean the shoe. I rolled O out to the car in the cart, took off his shoe, put him in the car, and proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes trying to get all the poo off the shoe. Luckily there were some puddles in Meijer’s parking lot, so I used them to my advantage. I also used a diaper or two from his diaper bag, some wipes, and a discarded piece of plastic (to really dig the poop out of the shoe grooves).
I think any normal person might have just went back home and changed their son’s shoes. Not me. I was determined. I was going to conquer the poop. And I was going to be at work early! On a Monday!
I cleaned the shoe as much as I could using my parking lot tools and headed to daycare. When we were got there, I noticed poop on the OTHER shoe. Day-um! It gets everywhere! I ripped that shoe off, carried O to daycare in his stocking feet, and used the daycare bathroom to give both shoes a good final scrubbing.
I was driving to work from daycare when I noticed some poop on my jeans. Good times. Luckily I still had some wipes in the car, so I was able to use a few to clean my jeans.
Needless to say, I didn’t get to work early that morning. But I was only 10 minutes late.