I think I mentioned awhile ago I started running again. I've been in a pretty regular routine for the past couple of months and I usually get home from work, change, and go out for a few miles before meeting the boys at the playground around 5:15 pm. Jen leaves and we stay and play until 6 pm when we head home for dinner.
So there we were next to the slide around 5:30 pm and I realize Ashton's shorts are not only wet but his underwear is filled with dirt. Like, a lot of it. We'll call this Mess #1. He is often guilty of being too busy playing to notice he has to go to the bathroom but this was ridiculous. Luckily I had spare underwear and wipes, so after asking another parent to watch Alex, we camped out behind a tree so I could clean up all the dirt. So. gross. I threw it all away, bye bye underwear. But I was mad too - Ashton knows better than to have accidents like that and lately he seems to have some potty-training regression going on. It gets worse.
We got home at 6:05 pm for dinner. The boys played for about ten minutes while I put their meal together. I plucked Alex away from the toys, washed his hands and dropped him in his highchair. I went back in to get Ashton and he was cowering in the corner. Guess what. MORE dirt in his underwear!! GRRRRR!! Time out while I clean Ashton up AGAIN and throw the dirty underwear into the basement for scrubbing later. Mess #2.
I made Alex an egg, and he had some chicken and fruit along with Ashton. I steamed some fresh cauliflower and melted cheese on it, thinking maybe I could get each boy to take one bite before they threw it in one direction or another. Alex did precisely that with one big swipe across his tray. To show extra dissatisfaction, he then spiked his milk cup on the floor, which popped open and spilled. Mess #3. Now, Ashton had been asking me incessantly about going to get ice cream after dinner so I bribed him with one bite. You know what is exhausting? Constantly trying to make a deal at dinnertime. "If you eat a carrot, I'll give you a cookie." "If you eat a carrot, I won't wash your hair tonight." And then further negotiations start - he'll eat a sliver of that carrot, but only after I've cut it with the red knife, on his plate, while singing a song that I have to repeat twice and then twirl. Honestly, I'm so sick of it that I've stopped trying. I follow Ellyn Satters' Division of Responsibility in Feeding and it's been quite freeing. But last night I made him take a bite of the cauliflower in order to get ice cream and he just sat and cried. So there I was, all the dishes from dinner piled up in the sink with a sticky toddler and sobbing preschooler. We'll call the general scene Mess #4.
6:50 pm - 7:15 pm. The ice cream store. Nothing bad happened until I took Alex out of his carseat when we got back home. I was corraling Ashton up the stairs into the house with Alex on my hip and announced it was bathtime. As I was opening the door, Alex bit me on the shoulder. HARD. I actually almost started to cry! What a mean little devil!
The next hour passed as it usually does - tons of bathwater on the floor (Mess #5), pajamas, stories and the wrestling matches that result whenever I get out their toothbrushes. Alex went to sleep and Ashton and I headed back downstairs. I started to clean up the kitchen while Ashton played and then after awhile he came running in: "I have dirt in my pants". WHAT?! I checked and yep, soiled pants for the third time in as many hours. At this point I was, I'm not proud to say, livid. We marched upstairs, I changed him into new ones and he said "But these are wet." I said, "No, they are not, I just pulled them out of your dresser! TIME FOR BED!"
I gave him his requested number of hugs and kisses and turned off the lights. Good night.
Three minutes later I heard his door pop open. His nightlight/clock was missing. It is always on the his bookshelf but nope, gone. I searched the entire upstairs and finally asked Ashton if he knew where it was. He told me he threw it into the big hole. What? The big hole ended up being the back of his closet. I fished it out, plugged it in, and turned around to see it: the puddle of pee on the floor. Alex roams diaper-free just before bathtime and he must have been the culprit. And I must have skimmed Ashton's pajama pants in it without realizing, hence his claim that they were wet. Mess #6.
All was finally quiet, I went downstairs and Jason had just gotten home. I started to cry. I've had a bad cold so I didn't feel good, was exhausted, sick of cleaning dirt out of Ashton's underwear and in general, the two boys had beat me that night.
I said, "Well, I'll be down in the basement scrubbing you-know-what..." and moved towards the door.
You'll notice a speck on the side of the doorway, next to the yellow keychain. It's not a bug. Guess what? It's a piece of dirt. Screw it - it's a piece of poop. Feels better to finally use the word. It's poop and it's just hanging out, chillin', all stuck there. A solid three feet off the ground. It must have gone flying and hit after Mess #2? And then I was laughing through my tears (Mess #7) because why wouldn't my day end with scraping this off the wall? Mess #8.
A hot shower. Then wine. The end.
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