pooh . . .

Kacey was a newborn - like maybe 3 weeks old - when an acquaintance (sort of a "friend of a friend") called one morning and asked if I could watch her children for the day. Now I’m about as accomodating they come, but I hardly knew this woman, I had no relationship with her kids (girl 3 and boy 2), but mostly, I just wasn’t up to it. (Hey, don’t judge me! It takes a REALLY LONG TIME to recover from 32 hours of labor!)

Anyway . . . I politely told her I wasn’t up to it, maybe another time.

About half an hour later she called back, this time practically begging. Seems an old friend of hers was in town just for the day and they really wanted to go to lunch and catch up. She had apparently called every one else she had ever known and absolutely no one else was available (this should have been my first clue). She would feed them lunch before she brought them and would only be gone an hour - hour and a half tops.

“Well . . . I guess so,” I replied.

Twenty minutes later she showed up at the door, and informed me that she just hadn't had time to feed them or even pack them a lunch, but that they would eat just about anything I would fix. (Lucky me!)

So I attempted to feed and clean up after two toddlers, while breastfeeding one-handed (now, this may work for some of you B- cup gals, but some of us more well-rounded moms requre both our hands to adequately accomplish this task without smothering our babies.)

Once that task was complete, Kacey fell asleep, so I took her upstairs and put her on the bed. When I returned downstairs a very few minutes later, I saw the 2-year-old turning a corner dressed in Pooh fashion. (Read: shirt, no pants.) Seems he had dropped his diaper . . . somewhere. I quickened my barefoot pace to catch up to him, when, first . . .
I STEPPED IN IT.

Then I said it.

Seems he was not only dressed in Pooh fashion, but also in poo. Which, thanks to the ripaway diaper, now covered my living room floor as well. Gross.

Three (3!) hours, two diaper changes, one temper tantrum (mine) and a $60 carpet cleaning call later, “mom” returned to collect her little angels, without so much as an apology for being late, an offer to clean my carpets, or even a “thank you” for my time.

I’d say I learned a valuable lesson from this experience, but since it has been 20+ years and I am still whining about it, probably not. :o)