The Poop Doesn't Stop

Having kids means that no matter what is going on in your life, they consistently distract you with their laughter, tears and everyday needs. One thing that really set the stage for me through this whole thing was a couple days after the dreaded diagnosis. I felt awful, couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t get myself out of bed – I was, in a word, a mess. Marchus convinced me to go with him to have lunch with the kids at the park. So, off we went to pick up sandwiches and (gasp!) a mint chocolate chip milkshake for me – comfort food. ☺
So, about ½ way through lunch at a picnic table in this park full of families, Adam announces that he has to poop. Of course, at this park, there are no bathrooms. We ask if he can wait, and he says he can. Ten minutes later, he’s visibly uncomfortably dancing around. He says he has to poop again. OK, so Marchus runs to the car with Matthew to get wipes, and I try to figure out a place for him to squat. The only available place out of complete view of the other families was to lean him up against the backboard of the horseshoe pit. As we prepare for the inevitable, I realize that I wasn’t fast enough, and he had, in fact, pooped in his underwear, which I deftly (not) removed while trying to keep the poop off the rest of him and get his shoes and pants back on while maintaining his unsupported seated position. He then had the opportunity to finally do what needed to be done.
As I looked down to see Marchus still ½ way down the hill with wipes and a plastic bag, and held my son, telling him everything was OK, I had to laugh – this is life, I thought to myself, and I don’t want to miss one second of it. I scooped the poop, the wipes and the underwear into a plastic bag, tossed them into the garbage can and from that point, decided to pull myself together and look ahead with a positive attitude – enjoying every poop along the way.