There is grace for that. (Yep, even poop.)

Why is it that any time my babes have had a horrifically messy poop, it’s when we’re about to leave the house? I know you all know what I’m talking about. You’re getting ready to go somewhere (school, church, out to dinner, whatever) and everyone is pretty much ready to go. You make sure everyone’s shoes are on the right feet, and start shuffling them to the car. You pick up the baby to put him in the carseat and, blerg, you catch a whiff of something horrible as you hoist him into the car. You take a peek back there, and sure enough. He’s pooped. You bribe your other kids into their carseats with promises you don’t intend to keep, and whisk the baby and his smell back into the house.

You get to the changing table and see that even though he’s already pooped once this morning, this second one is NOT a quick little clean up. As you pull off his pants, the poop that was coming out of one leg of the diaper smears all the way to his foot. Great. Now you need to make sure you have a full pack of wipes before you do anything else. Also a trash bag. And something for the baby to hold so he doesn’t play in it.

All the while, you’re cursing every choice you made since you got up this morning. Why didn’t I just get up with my first alarm? Why didn’t I wake the baby up earlier so he could get this crap out of his system before now? Why didn’t I let the kids sleep in the clothes they needed to wear to school? Why didn’t I ask Hubby to change this diaper?! Finally, you’ve used 93 wipes, filled a grocery bag with poop, and thrown away the baby’s pajama pants. You’ve shoved him into shorts and given him a bowl of blueberries to eat in the car, hoping they don’t somehow make it through his system before you get back home. Your big kids are asking, “Where is our special treat for getting buckled in?” and you’re all, “I’ll totally bake brownies for lunch.” so they stop asking.

You’re 15 minutes behind, meaning you have to walk the kids in instead of using the carpool drop off. It’s okay, because your preschool check is late and you left your diaper bag in there last weekend. You’re riding the struggle bus as you drag your sleepy, still hungry kids into the building, hoping you don’t smell like baby poop. You stumble into the preschool director’s office, and flop down on her couch like it’s a therapy session (okay, it kind of is). You tell her about the poop-splosion and your train-wreck of a morning, apologize for losing your statement and ask her how much you even owe that month. She doles out grace and love to you, and says, “Hey, that’s normal. We’re all doing that.” And magically, your morning struggles dissolve and you’re grateful for the community you have.

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