Our house is what you might call light green. Actually, our house is literally a light mossy green color but what I meant is we are light green when it comes to being ecofriendly, reducing our impact on the planet and staying away from harsh chemicals. It’s important to me to make responsible decisions about what we put in and on our bodies, but as a busy mom with a limited budget some things get ranked higher than others. On one hand, it’s easy to choose household cleaning products that are all-natural and eco-conscious, especially because I know someone is going to put their mouth on every single surface in my house at some point. On the other hand, if my kids want to eat their weight in clementines and I can’t find organically grown clementines, that’s not a fight I’m willing to have. I recycle every recyclable that passes through my door but I’m not willing to totally give up paper towels. Light green.

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Scene: Pouring rain. In the van on the entrance ramp to the highway. Two kids in their car seats. You’re  just barely on time for Stroller Strides because you had to pack four zillion snacks, sippy cups, toys, water bottles, crayons and blankets.

Suddenly, you hear a voice from the back seat.

“Mommy, poop potty! Big poop Mommy!”

WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

Option A: Turn around and go home. You’ll have to drive down to the next exit, get back ON the highway, get back OFF the highway, drive back past the hospital during the busiest part of the morning, drag both kids out of the car into the house in the rain.

Cons: Getting wet, hauling kids, being late
Pros: You probably won’t have to scrape poop of the toddler

Option B: Stop at the gas station a few exits down the highway. The bathroom will be of questionable cleanliness and you’ll have to balance a baby on your hip while removing the toddlers shoes, pants and underwear because he refuses to sit on the potty unless entirely bottomless. Then you have to do it all in reverse to go back out in the rain and reload them into the car.

Cons: Getting wet, hauling kids, being late, catching horrible disease from disgusting public restroom
Pros: You probably won’t have to scrape poop off the toddler (but not guaranteed)

Option C: Ask him to hold it. Beg him to hold it. Shout “NO POOPING IN THE CAR!” Sing a made-up-song about how we only poop in the potty. Say “Did you poop? Did you poop? Did you poop?” every 12 seconds the whole way to the mall. UNFORTUNATE TWIST: You forgot to pack extra underpants (or any kind of pants).

Cons: Possible poop scraping, being so tired of the word poop your brain explodes
Pros: On time to class, no extra kid hauling, taking the risk gets your heart racing which practically counts as a bonus morning workout

So, yeah, I thought my life was supposed to get EASIER after potty training. Everyone is always complaining about diapers but let me tell you, THIS IS NOT BETTER. I spend at least two hours a day staring at my kid while he sits on the can, helping him with his pants, wiping his butt or bribing begging him to use the potty BEFORE we leave the house. My Weight Watchers activity tracker should have an option for “potty trained toddler” because if I’m going to be running back and forth to the restroom every single time we go out in public I want to be able to EAT those activity points. Or more accurately, drink those points. Mommy needs a hot cocoa with peppermint schnapps.

For the record, my choice in the earlier scenario was C because I happen to know my kid is a LYING LIARFACE and uses “Poop potty!” as an excuse to get out of the car/stroller when he’s bored. There was no poop scraping. He not only held it until we got to the mall, he told me he didn’t even have to go anymore. No accidents.

So to sum up: I am sick of the word poop and my toddler is incredibly manipulative.

If you follow me on Twitter you’ve already heard the 140 character version of this story and I apologize for making you hear it again.

Since the weather is still mild-ish and the toddler is still grumpy-ish, I dragged us out of the house for Stroller Strides this morning, even though I don’t usually make it on Mondays. But I have way too much to do today to deal with a napless child and Stroller Strides + playground = guaranteed afternoon nap >2 hours. BAM. Baby algebra for the win.

Unfortunately I forgot to factor in 8 months pregnant + bottle of water – bathroom facilities at the park, so by the time we made it home I was doing the don’t-pee-your-pants shuffle while dragging Little Evan, the diaper bag, the wet bag, jackets for both of us, a blanket, two sippy cups and a half-deflated football (because this: BUHBALL!! BUHBALL!! NOOOOO!!!! BUHBAAAAAAALL!! is what happened when he saw me trying to leave it in the car) into the house. I dumped everything – including the child – on the kitchen floor and sprinted to the bathroom just on the other side of the baby gate.

Less than 2 minutes later, I came back through the gate to find Evan standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding a weird yellowish rock in his hand, looking at it in a puzzled manner. I walked over to see what it was, thinking “Wow, it was so nice to pee without someone watching me for once. Maybe I’ll do that more often!” when I realized what exactly he was holding.

POOP.

A GIANT PIECE OF POOP.

I screamed so loud he dropped it (OMG) on the kitchen floor (OMFG) and stumbled backwards against the cabinets.

“POOP!” I shouted, as if this would somehow activate an emergency response team trained to handle just such a situation. “THAT’S POOP!!!”

It only took another second for me to realize I was alone in my kitchen staring at the horrible turd and no hazmat team was imminent. Also, the dog had jumped off the couch and was starting to sniff around and as bad as the current scenario was, if the dog…No. I’m sorry. I can’t even finish that thought.

About 400 baby wipes later, I had safely transferred the poop to the toilet, wiped up everyone’s hands and felt disinfected enough to drag us both to the sink for a thorough scrubbing followed by half a bottle of Lysol applied to the floor. Crisis averted, it occurred to me this was really more of a mystery than a horror movie. WHO did the poop belong to? WHERE did it come from? WHY was the baby holding it? WHEN did my life turn into this?

Ok, that last one isn’t such a mystery. But back to the weird parts. Little Evan was fully dressed – diaper, corduroy pants buttoned at the waist, socks, shoes, shirt, sweatshirt. He looked exactly the same as he did when I dumped him on the floor 2 minutes earlier. I did change his diaper after I stopped hyperventilating and it was dirty (TMI ALERT) with several smaller poops that seemed to belong to the same, uh, family. But HOW did he get the one giant one OUT?! Was it from an earlier diaper? How long had it been…loose?  Could it have been hanging around for………No, seriously, I can’t think about this anymore. I’m not strong enough.

My sister-in-law has a similar story about a mystery poop, found in the middle of the nursery one morning while a fully dressed toddler slept in his crib. Before kids, I thought she was probably exaggerating.

I KNOW BETTER NOW.