It's a shitty job, but...

...somebody's got to do it. And who is that someone usually? Mom. A Mom has to suck it up, even when she feels like she might hurl, in order to clean up the messes that these little beasts--I mean angels--sometimes make.
Take this afternoon, for example...As I'm walking B downstairs, I hear a 'plop' and look down to see a giant piece of turd on my stair. (the dog would later 'clean' this up for me...thanks, Hank)
I quickly get him to my tub where I also notice that not only is the poo coming out the bottom of his pants (or, well, uh, his friend J's pants since he'd gotten his own pants wet at the playdate this morning. Sorry, M. They are being detoxified as I type!) but is also caked to the entire side and top of one of his shoes. And when I say 'caked' I mean about a 1/2" solid layer spread evenly over the whole freaking thing. (Said shoes are currently drying in the sun)
I get B washed and think I'm out of the woods. Oh, no, sir! I put my hand on my hip to find--you guessed it--more poo. And it's smeared all over the side of my jeans and sweater. (yes, these too are currently being detoxified)
I throw on a long, cottony dress--realizing that this should probably go in the garage sale pile since a.) I haven't worn it in four years, and b.) it makes me slightly resemble a member of the FLDS, but I digress...Anyway, I got myself cleaned up, put a very pissed off B down for a much-needed nap, go upstairs, and find sweet M sitting in the middle of the couch...on top of the smeared poo that B had left as one last reminder of this fun afternoon we're having.

I mean, it's not *quite* as bad as the time M threw his matchbox cars into the bowl after a less-than-formed movement, and I had to arm myself with a pair of yellow, rubber, elbow-length gloves in order to get them out. But it was still pretty gross.

To any non-Mommy readers: sorry for the disgusting post. To the Mommy readers: I know ya feel me.

Hey! Why not share your favorite poo story?