Motherhood and Crapping

imageVacuum, change kitty litter, empty boy’s book bags, sign homework folders and permission slip to allow 6th grader to attend “my changing body” assembly at school. Assist 5th grader with common core math problems as he wails, “fractions suck.” Feel your stomach cramping and realize you’ve been holding your bowels for three hours. You need to crap like now.

Begin to devise a strategic George Washington worthy battle plan to separate boy #1 from boy #2 thus ensuring they will not rip each other’s hair out while you are a busting a dookie. Set up boy #1 in bedroom with Capri Sun, rainbow Goldfish, and Full House on DVD. Usher boy #2 into living room, giving him his Guardians of the Galaxy Milano Spaceship Lego’s with strict instructions that he is NOT in under any circumstances to bother his brother, or you for that matter.

Desperately grab IPhone, latest issue of Allure magazine, and tear into bathroom. Unbutton size 14 jeans, pull down Hanes full rear coverage underpants and sit. It dawns on you that this is the first time you have sat down since you peed at 7:00 this morning. Exhale. This is going to be so good.

Suddenly hear the distinct sound of Boy #1’s feet padding down the hall. Clench teeth and poop shoot at the same time, anticipating interruption. Ecstatically discern he’s just looking for his Baymax stuffed animal. Unclench.

Begin to relax both sphincter and soul while blissfully perusing the glossy pages of Allure. Make mental notes to give magenta lipstick, Diptyque candles, and sooty grey eyeliner a whirl. Spot a photo of Gisele Bundchen in a silver miniskirt. Make a mental note to lose forty pounds. Pick up IPhone and open Etsy app, losing yourself in the images of monogrammed phone cases, infinity scarves, and rose quartz rings made out of recycled gold. Marvel at how these people find the time to make this shit when you can barley manage to find five minutes to take a shit.

Become abrubtly jolted from bubble of peace, solitude, and eye candy heaven by the distressed yowls of boy #1, realizing that boy #2 must have deployed some sort of annoying older brother tactic on boy #1. Begin to scream from the crapper, that if you have to get up all electronic devices will be confiscated and Club Penguin memberships shall be promptly deactivated. Grab IPhone and violently text ex-husband, You are SO taking these children this weekend!! Attempt to continue on with your bowel movement, vowing to pay more attention when SuperNanny is on.

Continue to poop and make a list of crap you need at the grocery store, toilet paper being at the top. This time you’re going all out and buying the good stuff, none of this one-ply shit anymore. Goddamn you deserve it! Hell while you’re at it put real Q-tips on the list too. A jagged C-section scar, leaky nipples, and no sleep should qualify for cotton swabs that actually have cotton on them.
Retrieve IPhone again and check Facebook. Three friends have invited you to like their Origami Owl page, seven friends have posted pin worthy pictures of Tuesday night dinner, and ten friends are urging you to vote Trump. Feel yourself getting agitated, and realize your log is stuck in neutral. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing though. Constipation means more time will be needed in the bathroom. More alone time! Holy crap on a cracker, you get more alone time!

Immediately log into Pinterest. The kids can feign for themselves. You’ve got some serious colon quakes to do.
Claudia Caramiello is a pharmacy technician by day, freelance journalist by night, mother both day and night. She is surviving single motherhood with help from caffeine and The Golden Girls 🙂


2 responses

  1. Had to click on this for the title alone! A great read and sounds like my house!

    Have you seen that meme that points out you’ll remind your wayward teenager how once they wouldn’t even let them take a crap alone? Well, that is my life!

    Keep fighting the good fight, Claudia and may you forever poop in peace.


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