I didn't make it.
No folks, I had something far far more glamorous to attend.
I've talked previously about how glitzy and glamorous motherhood is.
Well it is, isn't it?
This afternoon was no exception. I picked up Fern from preschool and headed home, for once organised enough to have rice precooked and in the fridge ready for making fried rice for dinner (normally I consider dinner about 12 minutes before it needs to be served) and was feeling rather good about making it to the gym for a 6.30pm class.
We arrived home and I asked Fern if she needed to go to the toilet. Strangely, my daughter seems to have stage fright, and will not do - ahem - number two's at school. No - despite the fact I am paying someone else to deal with toileting angst once a week, Fern prefers to wait until she is in the sanctum of her own bathroom to do her business. And whatevs.
But no, Fern didn't need to go.
Except I knew better.
And - over dinner - my mother's intuition and expert nose caught a bouquet of something untoward. I looked toward Elliott, because he is renowned for the ole dinner sneaky-poo.
But it wasn't him.
Suspiciously, I pulled the back of Fern's skirt back to have a look, and as I did something frightful came away in my hand.
O.M.G
O.M.G
Elliott was completely covered in food as usual. I grabbed both children and made way for the bathroom. As I peeled clothes off, the catastrophe went from bad to worse. I mean, without being too graphical about this I have never. ever. seen so much you-know-what in my entire life. It was so bad, all three of us had to jump in the shower together.
It was so bad, it spread all over the shower.
So bad, there were bits on Fern's shoulders.
So bad, it was in Elliott's hair.
So bad, I used an entire container of Body Shop strawberry scrub to get rid of the smell.
So bad, I had to wait in the shower for half an hour with both kids until Dan came home to carry the kids out.
Half a bottle of disinfectant, three quarters of a spray-bottle of BAM, three cloth nappies and a pair of rubber-gloves later I emerged from the bathroom.
It was 7pm.
Needless to say, I did not make it to the gym.
Glitz. Glamour. You have not experienced either until you are naked and wet from the shower, down on your hands and knees with an old cloth nappy, scubbing poo from the floor while your childless friends are at parties, sipping champagne from crystal flutes...
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| Little Miss innocent....... |
