Barefoot And Crazy…

Am I considered an alcoholic if I drink a pitcher of daiquiris in the middle of the afternoon in order to erase the image of my two year old painting himself if poo?


Why??  Why why why why why why WHY??

I knew better than to think this was over.  I did.  But that didn’t stop me from hoping, just a little bit, that my Poopcasso days were over.

Or, should I say, my Poopcasso Jr. days.

Clearly they aren’t, when this is the third time in a week I’ve found my “sweet” child covered in his own feces.  Not to mention the walls, window, and carpet.  At least this time he didn’t shove it all inside one of his busses.

The morning was going okay for the most part.  Mason and Leah pulled all of the toys out of the cabinet next to the tv. Then they shoved Kaleb inside. Then they got settled on the floor in front of the cabinet. For a good 30 minutes every time Kaleb opens one of the doors they shriek and squeal and laugh like little lunatics. Then he closes the door and they go silent. Door opens – shriek squeal, laugh. Door closes, quiet…
It was one of the most absurd things I’ve ever watched them do.

At the same time, both of my kids are volatile today.  Explosion after explosion.  Over the stupidest stuff.  A flash card.  No, seriously.  Not a pack of flash cards, not a ripped or broken flash card – over who was going to hold the flash card.  Seriously guys?  We have an entire bin full of flash cards – why are we fighting over this one?  In fact, I’m pretty sure we have multiple copies of this one.  Here – look, you can both have one…

Or you could both drop to the floor and start screaming like complete lunatics.  That works too.

Fighting over the giant teddy bear – if you don’t stop right this minute I’m going to give this ridiculous thing to Milo.  I’ll replace it as his bed.  You think I’m kidding??  Try me.  The dog loves this thing – and I have no problem removing it from the living room.

Or you could both drop to the floor and start screaming like complete lunatics.  That works too.

Mason, get your feet off of Kaleb.  Kaleb, take your foot off of Mason.  Mason!  No spitting!  Kaleb!  I said no spitting!  Well now I’m saying it to you too!  Stop that right now!  Keep your hands and feet to yourself!

Or you could both drop to the floor and start screaming like complete lunatics.  That works too.

The whole time this is happening, my niece is either inserting herself into the middle of the fiasco and fake crying, or she’s hiding in the cabinet.  No joke – hiding in the cabinet.  These kids are going to scar her for life.  Or maybe I am.  Maybe I’m actually effective when it comes to children I didn’t give birth to.  Considering she is the only one of them (little miss never sleeps) actually taking a nap.  All it took was one look from me and she was done.  Asleep in five minutes.

I go back and check in every few minutes because Mason has already been caught naked twice.  Then I hear Kaleb, yelling to me from the hallway that Mason is naked again.  Of course he is.  Why wouldn’t he be?  I mean seriously, how could I even think he would stay clothed?

What I didn’t expect was him naked – and completely covered in his own poo.  I stand there stunned for a minute as he stands at the window, gleefully rubbing himself down in crap as if it’s his very own rejuvenating skin cream.  And maybe it is, I don’t know.  What I do know is that it is nothing short of gross.  And I am horrified.  It’s like being sent back through time.  Here Desiree.  Hop on in the TARDIS so I can take you back in time – so you can relive the nightmare that was Poopcasso.

No, thanks.  I’ll pass.

Grab Mason, and give him his first experience with the shower head.  Not the nicest thing for me to do, no.  Then again, covering yourself in your own excrement and then proceeding to wipe it on the window, wall, and floor… well that’s not very nice either.  And it’s not as if I can give the kid a bath – he is completely covered in poo.  What good would sticking him in a tub do?  So, it’s shower time.  And he’s pissed.  Welcome to the club kid.

Get him washed, scrubbed, washed, scrubbed, and washed again for good measure.  Dry him off, stick him in a new diaper and jammies, put him in bed.  Clean the window.  Wall.  Carpet.  Point and shake finger at devil child.  Take.  A.  Nap.

Nope.  Nuh-Uh.  No joke, five minutes hasn’t even gone by and he’s naked again.

Are you freaking kidding me right now?  Seriously???  Seriously.  Why?

I’ll never know why.  Nobody knows why.  We all say “it’s a sensory issue”, and yet none of us can come up with any form of functional alternative solution.  Both the kids detest finger paint.  I mean, it’s actually pretty humorous.  I have a picture of Kaleb the first time I plopped his hands into finger paint – he actually looks like he might explode.

Kaleb was incessed that I stuck his hands in paint and smeared them around.  I still have that piece of paper hanging up

Kaleb was infuriated that I stuck his hands in paint and smeared them around. I still have that piece of paper hanging up

Mason is less than thrilled with this idea

Mason is less than thrilled with this idea

Mason was the same way.  Play-Doh?  Nope, they don’t really care for it all that much when it’s smooshy.  They only like it when it’s dry so they can crumble it up into the carpet.

Bean bags, squishy balls, balloons filled with everything from water to jell-o.  Nope.   Nadda.  Gotta have that poop.

So, I repeat my earlier question?

Does it make me an alcoholic if I drink an entire pitcher of daiquiris in the middle of the afternoon in order to rid myself of the image of Mason covered in crap??


9 thoughts on “Barefoot And Crazy…

  1. Feces? That sounds like a perfectly reasonable reason to day drink. Thank goodness Jp is horrified by bodily functions (this includes boogies) so vehemently that he freaks out when he sees them. Which is making potty training close to impossible but hey, you made me see that it’s better than the walls! 😉

    At least have one to take the edge off! 🙂


    • Hahaha well at least this served some form of good then! I’d much rather clean it out of a diaper than scrub the paint off the textured walls (why do people texture walls? It’s horrible. It’s impossible to clean, the poop just gets all up inside that nightmare)!


  2. Good grief, Karma..or shit….must have brought us together. I’m a blogger from way back but just started up again and have only ONE post thus far (and not my best work hehe) and it’s about shit. and humility. but initially it started because of shit. I have a 7 year old on the spectrum that loves his birthday suit. I have a 5 year old with other special needs. ANyway, neither are potty trained: 7 years of straight shit. I can relate. As far as my seven year old goes, I am TRYING to potty train him because he knows when he poops but he lets the rest of us know by proudly yanking his diaper off either mid-poop or directly after. My potty training successes consist of the midway diaper releases when my fat ass has to pick him up, holding him away from me, and run him into the bathroom to plop in on the potty so the rest can land where it’s supposed to and I can have a big, “yayyyyyyyy! clap clap clap” clapping fit in the hope that he will continue to half poop in the potty. My five year old doesn’t even do that. I THINK he knows he is pooping but he is just totally uninterested in even talking about it. He prefers to pretend that the whole elimination thing doesn’t even exist. I would love to pretend it didn’t either but I’ve stepped and rolled in way too much of it in the last 7 years, to be able to swath myself in ignorance. I have so much to say about poop. My 7 year old tends to be fairly regular. Lately he has switched to afternoon pooping which is good for the potty training attempts. For YEARS (and still on the weekends) his poop comes early in the morning so that upon arising from my rem state, the very first sense that is awakened is my sense of smell from the odor of poop. My kids have been pooping in diapers for so long now that I can tell which of them pooped just by the smell. I can also predetermine color and consistency by said smell. Smh. They say to wake up with happy thoughts etc bc it will help put you in the appropriate mood for the day. Obviously that doesn’t work for me! I’d be in a “shitty” mood every day. I have NOT yet experienced the poop painting and hope I never do. I have been permanently scarred by the number of times that I have stepped in a pil I missed or had no idea was even there. My son likes to cuddle with me in the morning and sprawl his body all over my legs. If poop is good for skin, my legs have the skin of a taught 18 year old because I have awoken so so so many times to poop on my body from his body or from rolling onto it on my freshly washed sheets and blankets. I swear it seems that these incidences happen more often after I have showered or washed my bedding. Or shampooed the carpet. Sigh. Or given him a shower. Anyway, I am happy to have found another “shitty blogger” such as myself! I will sign up for your blog so we can support eachother in PA poops anonymous. 😉


  3. I knew a mom once that duct taped diapers on her kids. She actually wrapped 2-3 times around the top of the diaper (where the tabs are) so they couldn’t get them off. One kiddo screamed and fought and decided it wasn’t worth the effort and quit trying. The other one figured out how to go in the leg holes to get at ‘the good stuff’ as she called it. She complained that is was a hassle to cut them off (she bought a pair of those surgical scissors that they use to cut dressing off wounds….they are blunt tipped and have a funny little wing on one blade so you can’t get the skin) but said it was better than cleaning the mess. And for what it’s worth, I’d have had a whole pitcher too!


    • I have seriously done that. When Kaleb was this age it was absolutely unbearable. I tried to tape the diaper on, he did the same thing – dug up from the bottom. So I bought him footie pajamas, cut the feet off, and put them on him backward – somehow the kid still got them off to get to his diaper! It’s unreal!


  4. Cheers. I’ll join you. Your photo of your little one freaking over paint reminded me of my third child. When she was at play school they all got aprons on to go painting. She got all ready but when they began she wouldn’t touch the paint. When ever the teacher tried to interest her she would say. “I don’t do painting!”. This went on for the whole school year.


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