Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Beauty and the Beast. And poop.

Warning: this post contains poop.

You don't like poop? Go check out SouleMama or Martha Stewart.

I have a wonderful friend who watches the boys for me so I can work.

I know, I know - I have sung her praises before.

She had an amazing wedding, she writes a really cool blog, and she sells really beautiful items in her fab Etsy shop.

She's sweet, funny and wise far beyond her years.

And she's truly amazing with the boys. They love her dearly.

The Big Boy has been pretty horrible with her lately, testing, testing, testing - and this tells me he trusts her. He knows that he can test his limits and she will reinforce the boundaries, but she'll still be there when he's done being horrible  three.

But, I digress - where's the poop you promised, Melissa?

Yesterday, beloved Miss Kristen (I suppose we should be calling her Mrs., now) told me the Big Boy had had some sort of catastrophic diaper malfunction involving poop, which required a change of clothes.

She had handled it without batting an eye, going all MacGyver with a paper towel changing pad.


As she was leaving she calls, "Melissa?"
"Yeah?" I say, dashing through the garage to see what's up.
"There's poop on the Big Boy's bike."

You were warned. 

The diaper failure had been so catastrophic as to leave that behind.

I cannot afford to pay her what she deserves.

Unless you count undying love and respect as benefits.


  1. Ahahahah... I'm laughing because I was there a few weeks ago! My own big boy, who has been potty trained, pooped in his pjs when we had a single sailor friend of Hubby's watch them for a parent's open house. "MORTIFYING" doesn't come close.

  2. So funny. Every parent has these rites of passage. You truly have a gem of a babysitter friend. Better make her a few batches of banana bread, or maybe give her a spa gift card, to say thanks. :)