WARNING – The following post (the first in a series) has absolutely nothing to do with London or travel. It has everything to do with the sometimes awful and almost always hilarious things that are possible when you parent a child.
On Friday night James and I brought a curry dinner over to our friends’ house after their kids were in bed, successfully putting Leo down in their bedroom so that we could have adult conversation without interruption. We had so much fun that we stayed until nearly midnight, when we rushed a still sleeping child out to the car in the rain and prayed he would fall right back asleep at home. We were willing to pay for* our evening with friends – spent drinking gin and tonics, catching up on 6 years of life, and reading brief excerpts of books out loud to each other. And then guess what happened? Leo slept until 9 am on Saturday morning. More significantly, WE slept until 9 am on Saturday morning. These kinds of things rarely happen.
Because I am a weird and wonderful person, I decided that I would seize the day and…wait for it…deep clean the bathroom while Leo had his nap. I know, life of the party. I gathered supplies. I swept and wiped down the floor. Occasionally, I popped into Leo’s bedroom to remind him that nap time was for sleeping. But mostly? I thrilled to the idea of a clean bathroom. I was just about ready to wash the bathtub when I caught a whiff of something that shouldn’t be in a British bathroom (where only a bath and sink are usual, toilets being in the ‘toilet’). A whiff of poo.
It only took me a few minutes to realize that I had somehow trodden on one of Leo’s dirty diapers during a dimly lit naptime check-in. (I confess that I sometimes neglect to put a dirty diaper into out trash right away because of….so many things. No longer!). The top portion of my right slipper bore the telltale signs of a fateful misstep: poop. Leo’s poop. Let me be the first to tell you that a poop slipper can really temper one’s seize the day mojo. What will kill it dead, however, is discovering that you’ve left little poo footprints on the floor between Leo’s bedroom and the bathroom.
I spent the next twenty minutes on my hands and knees, using my iPhone flashlight, scrubbing the carpet with disinfectant and cleaner, alternately cursing and giggling about the situation. While it wasn’t exactly the way I’d envisioned spending my Saturday morning naptime freedom, it was kind of funny. I never thought I’d have to worry about stepping in a pile of poo in my own home until just then. And who would. (And yes, before you write to tell me about people who own pets, I know that pets defecate. There just seems to be something far worse about stepping in human feces. Or am I wrong on that?)
Glamourous, parenthood is not. But it is always interesting, and usually quite funny.
Until next time, watch your step! Ha.
*For those of you without children, a translation. “Pay for” – a phrase used by parents to explain the many different ways that children sense you are having/will have/did have a good time and then go to great lengths to restore equilibrium through canny schemes of not sleeping, lying on the floor and screaming in public, etc. You get the idea.