A Crappy Metaphor

*WARNING: This true story contains graphic details relating to crap - as in poop.  If you can't hang, hit the "Back" button.  But this, my friends, is a true Dayton day-to-day.



Yesterday something happened that translated into the greatest (or crappiest) metaphor ever for my life.  It was disgusting, though. 

I have spent the past week cleaning up puke due to yet another stomach bug that made it's way through our house.  The grown-ups were spared this time, which is bittersweet.  Generally, we can make it to a toilet or trash can before we throw up, leaving very little clean-up work.  Kids, however, generally do not.  Adam does well if we leave a bucket right beside the bed, but when the bug hits suddenly at 2 a.m., it means we're changing sheets and scrubbing the carpet at 2:05 a.m.  Adam caught it first and was sick last Thursday, Friday, Saturday.  Then Anaya - Sunday, Monday, Tuesday.  Finally, Audie succumbed Tuesday and Wednesday.  Yesterday was a recovery day and was the first day that the twins really ate anything.  When you haven't eaten in three days and you start again, gaseous things happen.  It was really smelly around here.  I was constantly checking diapers, certain they were dirty, only to find them completely clean.  I ran on the treadmill, then came in to the living room convinced that for sure someone was dirty.  Nope.  Then Adam got home from school and I told him to keep an eye on the twins while I took a shower (he's really good at tattling right now, so he keeps an eagle eye on them).  While in the shower, he came in and said, "Mommy, the twins are stinky."  I told him I knew and that they were having tummy issues today.  Right now seems like a good time to mention that I was showering to get ready for an OSC function I had to go decorate for in about 45 minutes.  I was ahead of schedule, at this point. 

When I got out of the shower, I went to the living room to check on everyone and the smell was too overwhelming.  I knew, for sure, that someone needed a new diaper.  Anaya appeared the likely culprit because she was standing next to the ottoman, bent over so that she could lay her head on it.  Just looked odd.  So I went over and stood her up to check her diaper.  That's when I spotted it - the puddle of shit on the rug.  Her diaper had literally runneth over, down her leg and formed a puddle.  On the carpet.  In the living room.  30 minutes before I had to be somewhere.  Obviously, I spent the next 20 minutes (hair still wet, no makeup on...) frantically cleaning the carpet and bathing Anaya and taking out the rancid trash.  Then, as we drove to the Club to decorate (still no makeup, hoping there's time to do that between decorating and the function...), it occurred to me: No matter how prepared I am, early I am, organized I am, there is always a puddle of shit that gets in the way that I have no control over.  This is exactly how I always feel!  Like I am doing everything I can to keep it all together and someone else craps on my plan.  Just. Like. That. 

Perfect.