poo

"Mom! I peed on the floor!" Those words started my day, and they were coming from the one kid who is potty-trained. I wandered out. I'd optimistically assumed he'd been playing in his over-saturated nighttime diaper, and he'd dampened the rug. Every morning we have a graceful little ritual. While he's standing I undo the diaper with one hand, let it fall into the other without its touching his legs or having any of the pee side touch my hands and I swing it into the trash. This morning he'd pooped in it, so instead of my normal choreography, I had to use my left hand to catch a pasty ball of shit.

I then tried to get the 4 month old to eat mushy rice cereal. She hasn't mastered swallowing, so it goes all over the place. I also had to make myself a liverwurst sandwich for lunch. I walked to the studio with the baby. All of the snow has finally melted which is great except people who own dogs have been letting them poop on the snow for the past 2 weeks. Did they think the shit was going to melt away with the snow? There is a wet poo every 4 or 5 steps. The only good thing about that is it reminded me of someone in San Francisco sprinkled glitter on poop in the street and poked in a little toothpick flag with a happy message on it like, "Have a nice day!"

I arrived at my studio and had to deal with recycling clay. It's thick and pasty and has the added horror of being filled with my hair. I lose an appalling amount of hair a few months after giving birth. It's everywhere. It's especially revolting the way it sticks to the green scrubby side of the kitchen sponge.

I guess I'm lamenting that my life is consistently of the same consistency: soft shit. I suppose I didn't HAVE to make myself a liverwurst sandwich, but it's just so good with pickles, mustard and watercress.