«If someone shits their pants … well, then we’re just screwed»

Have you ever had one of those really long days?

Of course you have! You’re reading my blog, which means you either enjoy women who talk like sailors, you’re really terrible at cooking and read my recipes to feel better about yourselves, you know me personally or you’re a parent yourself.

At any rate, I don’t generally attract the calm crowd. I attract the people that have really long days.

Today was no exception. In fact, every day since last Tuesday (you know, like, eight days ago) has felt like one of those really long days.

Last Tuesday I was packing my bags and leaving on a jet plane. No, really, this time I was, I wasn’t just singing a song. Because I have the coolest job ever, my team flew to California to have an all-day meeting about our goals for the year ahead and to take part in a big ole professional convention in Anaheim.

Also because I have the coolest job ever, we work in a completely virtual environment, which means when we get together (about three-four times a year), we really get together, like, all day. We eat, breathe and drink work while we’re together (spoiler alert, sometimes this means wine too).

No, really, though, I have the most amazing job, I work for the most amazing company and I adore my family and husband for not completely wanting to behead me for leaving them with my less-than-easy spawns for four days.

It was a hard adjustment to make though; to not be concerned about Pearyn’s school lunches and to go to bed without rocking my monster man. Most mothers would plead for this time away and while I loved it and loved feeling like I was something other than a mother (don’t get me wrong, I love my kids, I just enjoy knowing I’m a career woman too), I had to make myself really focus on the moment.

Of course by the time I flew back to my crew I was itching to get back on a plane and get away with a few more days of work.

So I felt guilty. I’ve been feeling guilty for the last few days now because I went to the sunshine state and had adult time and did some awesome work with some awesome people.

To make up for leaving my family for four days I’ve been taking the kids to the park like every day. And giving my daughter fruit snack and suckers galore; not to mention making chocolate and peanut butter covered everything.

Didn’t you know? The way to a husband and child’s love is through their stomachs and the park.

Finally though, today was enough. Pearyn had asked me to go to the park for the 90 bajillionith time and I was over it. I had already promised to run her up there once I was done feeding her brother, so the fact that she felt the urge to ask me continually for the next 30 minutes was beyond me. I didn’t even bother to pack the diaper bag.

Screw the extra panties and shorts for Pearyn; who cares if Braeburn has a blowout poosplosion? Pear doesn’t need to hydrate after all, right?

I literally uttered to my husband out the door as he asked if I needed him to carry the diaper bag, «if someone shits their pants, well, then we’re just screwed.»

And the truth is, I meant it. I wanted so much to slip back into that California work-only mentality that I drove my recently-potty-trained toddler and three-month-old son in the car diaper bag free. By golly if one of them really did shit their pants I was in trouble.

Except that I was literally two minutes away from home and would probably have an easier time just running them home in the event of an accident as opposed to trying to clean them in the car.

That, and I figured if anyone was going to be urinating themselves it’d be me, the mother of two that should probably do more kegels.

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