Oh poop, you got me again

Ugh, you know what kind of sucks when you're a parent... not being able to kick back for a few minutes and trust that the house won't go straight to hell the second your back is turned. Instead you can almost guarantee that any moments of peaceful laziness spent with children out of your direct line of sight will only end in tears... and sometimes poop. This lesson I have learned many times... but times are different... I'm a working mom now, and for the past few weeks I've been nostalgic for the old days. Remembering with sweet sadness how wonderful it was to be a stay at home mom, in yoga pants all day.

So yesterday I took a half day and spent some time with my little angels. I was only out of the room for a few minutes while I changed into my yoga attire... but that's all it took. I came out of my room to find Beau with FIVE unwrapped dum-dums stuffed in his face, Conner running in circles yelling like he was possessed... and where you ask was Tillie? Oh, she was in the hall bathroom, fishing in the toilet with her brother's tooth brush. Joy.

Tonight I came home, with a whole bag full of good intentions. I made the kids cracker pizzas, because I ROCK, they ate dinner before 7pm... and they loved it. You know what though, all that time spent having my shit together was exhausting. So, I hid for a few minutes in my bedroom... and then I heard yelling. Conner was yelling that Tillie was getting yogurt everywhere, which didn't make sense, because I hadn't given the children any yogurt. Which was kind of a horrible realization, because it meant they had been climbing in the fridge and OH MY GOD the only yogurt we had was in a half gallon jug!!!

I ran into the living screaming nonsense and burst upon Tillie two fists deep in a bucket-o-yogurt slammin' her face full of goo like the little lactose junkie she is. As I continue to scream Nic runs out, grabs her and sets her with clothes on in the tub... then runs out the door because his Dad was here to pick him up and go out. So now alone, and probably experiencing one the top ten most intense freak outs of my life, I strip Tillie and start some water going in the tub. I let her just splash in the stream while I run into the living room and mop yogurt out of the carpet... and off the couch... and out of the entertainment center... and off some clean laundry... like holy shit she touched everything she possibly could before she got caught.

I finally get most of it up, and run back to the bathroom to give Tillers a good rinse... when she starts to make the poop face. So I begin screaming... but then I notice something... swirling amid the bath toys are some brown chunks. I am too late, she has already pooped in the tub... and I've probably already touched it. I grab a cup and begin scooping poo bits out from the toys, praying she doesn't clog the drain. I look down and realize that she had already begun scooping poop out of the tub herself, actually I'm standing in it.

So there you go... I love the heck out of those kids, but damn, they make going to work feel like a vacation... and if work feels like a vacation I can't even imagine how awesome a vacation would be.