365 Random Days of Team Zybko

Day #192

 August1st, 2012

Poo on a Shoe

If you have kids you will more than likely not be surprised or grossed out by this post. I hope not anyway. Poo is real.

Poo is out there. Poo is nasty. And yes, it's true...Poo happens.

Poo-ness comes with the parenting gig. No big deal right? Just included with the joy and territory of the most important job in the world. Bring it on.

When they are babies we talk about the frequency and consistency and perhaps even the difficulty of our cute little ones pooping or not pooping. Other moms nod while you talk, understanding fully the catastrophe of a public newborn blowout or the change over smell when they start eating real food. Whee doggies. Slightly different from the mustard seed sweet aroma of a breast fed newborn. Well that's when the baby and poo are both little. Once potty training has taken place and they master the tough yoga like task of wiping their own hineys you really are hopeful poo issues are behind you. (Ha Ha behind you.) Well think again sister. Poo never goes away. Reason # 243 why we don't have a family dog. I have trouble remembering to water the plants. I must be realistic and honest. I would never stick to a regular (ha ha regular) backyard poo picking up schedule.  

  Having even one kid gets you in the game of poo. Have a few more kids and your odds go up. The odds that you will have at least one child that doubles as a Poo Detector 2000.  Simple math here. Unfortunately the Poo Detector's wires are notoriously rigged backwards like some sort of bad joke. The detecting of the poo by the Poo Detector occurs only after stepping in a big fresh steaming pile of it first.

Let me explain.

First of all let me say I don't use this blog to throw any of my kids under the bus. That wouldn't be so nice. I'm also not really in the business of purposely trying to embarrass them either. I mean geesh I do that enough with out trying. What's so awful about dancing down the fruit isle of Sam's with bananas on your head anyway. I will never know in my lifetime and I also probably won't stop doing it either. So in efforts to protect the main character of this story, our very own Team Zybko voted family Poo Detector 2000 I will not show the child's face. More like a mama bear I will protect the innocence of the poo stepper so he/she won't be picked on at school. Oh, wait we home school so never mind on that point he/she will be picked on for another reason, bigger than poo.  

Day #1

Traveling to a far off destination in Northern Minnesota Poo Detector announces he/she needs to use the bathroom. Baby Daddy lets out a small huff as we actually JUST stopped no more than 5 minutes earlier. PD was very much into his IPOD game at the gas station, declining the offer to go. Apparently he/she had reached a super high level on Jet Pack Joyride. The gonna regret it, too lazy to unbuckle level. 

Sorry, I didn't need to go then Dad.

BD and I look at each other and decide the side of the road will have to do. Here in moose country you may drive 25 miles without seeing civilization or another car so peeing in the field on the side of the highway, no problem. So we thought.

The grass and wild flowers were way taller than they appear whizzing (ha ha whizzing) by them going 60 miles an hour. The natural scratchy-ness of the weeds came up to PD's waist at least. Very important to pay attention to the words
'hard to even see your shoes'
through the thickness of the summer time growth. PD emerges and reaches for the handle of the van. Great I think, that didn' take too long. Before climbing all the way in he/she announces he/she also has the urge to now go poo. 

OK, honey, I throw PD a few wipes reminding myself that we aren't in a hurry at all.
A few minutes later all is well with the chillin's buckled safely back in until PD freaks out about a special rock he dropped.
Where?
Really sweety....out there?
Ok, you can go find it.
We cruise through a few radio stations while we wait, settling on "Call Me Maybe" Partridge Family style sing along at the tops of our lungs and a make believe pink sparkly flip phone. Well into the chorus the second time around PD peaks his/her head up in front of the hood with a worried look on his/her face.
Turning the volume to hear him/her say;
I stepped in poo.
What kinda poo? (I ask like it matters.)
My poo says the Poo Detector 2000.
Looking for the silver lining I ask in the most positive
way I could muster up.
Well did you at least find your special rock?    

Day #2

Trails for walking, biking, roller blading and even four wheeling are abundant and nicely planned out here. Go as short or as far as you would like. While taking a mini family hike last Sunday we notice a large amount ( important to remember) of dogs with their owners on this path as we explore. Before we begin BD and I remind the little ones of some important rules.

Stay on the path kids. Don't get too far ahead. Keep away from anything that even comes close to looking like poison ivy or poison oak. And PD please please please stay on the pavement and watch out for poo, we don't have an extra pair of shoes this time.

After SPRAYING down and SPFing up we are under way. 

I am a pretty lenient, fun, go with the flow mom most of the time.  I think anyway. We all have our off days I guess. I must not have had all my coffee, I wasn't feeling the exuberance of PD. I myself could even hear the fun sucking happen, loud and clear. Nagging at a constant rate in a monotoned voice about the same issues, over and over again.

Please get back on the trail.

Please get off those rocks.

Please don't climb that wall.

Please don't pick the flowers.

Please don't throw grasshoppers at people.

Please watch your step.

Please catch up.

We aren't waiting I yell back,

turning my head to catch a glimpse of PD removing one shoe.

Fearing the worst I have no energy or desire to back track and discover what his/her shoe just found.

Mom, I have a problem. A big problem.

Two days in a row. Really? We contemplate leaving the shoes exactly where they are but know in our hearts how terribly wasteful and ugly American that would be. PD was also unfortunately blessed with a sensitive nose and super human gag  reflex. I tell PD it's ok. It could have been anyone of us. Stepping in poo two days in a row. Yea sure, that happens all the time in other families too. Pretty much fibbing until I can get cup of black afternoon coffee to make it through the rest of the day and any more poo that comes my way. I pick up the shoes and PD. Finishing our "together time" holding hands and our noses. This time the clean up will be extensive.

 Whew, I do not want to see the size of the guilty dog.

Day #3

I pull the van to the grass of one of our favorite new playgrounds.

Let's go kiddies, there is no one else here. 

You have the entire park to yourselves.

Mom, I  have to go to the bathroom first.

Just for the record I do tell the kids to empty bladders and bowels before leaving the house.

I have three letters for you for an explanation.

A...D....D 

I look around, the port a potty appears as a mere speck on the horizon. Too far. I look the other direction and spot a good climbing tree (important to remember) with well hanging branches to serve as coverage...just in case. I do plan to scoop up the poo with a plastic Food Lion bag after we eat our picnic lunch. Not before, that would perhaps gross me out as I munched on my brown Nutella sandwich. No biggie, it's deserted. PD does the doo or poo in this case and joins us on the blanket for his Ziploc bag and a squirt of hand sanitizer. Fast forward and hour. Playing, laughing, swinging, running and completely forgetting about the #2 that sat by the trunk of the innocent tree.

Waiting patiently to be cleaned up by the responsible party. 

I turn to push a kid in the swing and encourage them to practice pumping their legs by themselves. Now breezing by me higher than my shoulders I turn back to count my ducklings.

Hhhmmm. Where is PD?

Over there climbing that really cool tree.

NNNOOOOOOOOOO.

Not that tree.

Too late. Third times a charm. Three days in a row.

I may have to accidentally leave these shoes here.

  

We checked out a cool book from the library the other day. A short read with a bunch of random facts. I laugh out loud as Delaney reads page # 37 on the way home.

Ha ha seriously? Read that one again.

Astronaut Neil Armstrong left his boots on the

moon after after his famous first steps in 1969.

This struck me as a bit weird.

I drive and shake my head.

Why on earth would he leave his boots on the moon?

PD answers my rhetorical question.

Maybe he stepped in moon poo.

Bahahaahaa!