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June 2016

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Live. Laugh. Poop.

Motherhood is a very humbling thing. Never in my wildest dreams was I prepared for all the bodily fluids I would be touching on a regular basis. Having children and pets around is like having a ticking time bomb of illness, infection, and funk. Not a day goes by where I haven’t wiped spit, snot, or poop off noses, furniture, floors, butts, and myself! Between my three kids, dog, and cat, it seems like I get a shit surprise nearly every single day. I’ve always thought that poop was a pretty funny topic of conversation. I truly believe you can never go wrong with a good shit or fart joke or story. So, here is my most recent shit surprise.

Just the other night, my kids asked if we could go on a walk to the park. It was a nice evening, my husband was working late anyway, so I reluctantly said yes. In reality, the last thing I wanted to do was walk to the park with the three kiddos and the dog after a long day at work and a long commute home. I was really just looking forward to being lazy and just sitting on the couch and chilling. Regardless of what wanted, I decided that I would be the good mom and take my circus show to the park. After the typical shoe debacle and everyone had on two matching shoes, we headed out the door to begin our hike to the park. One rode his bike, one walked the dog, and I pushed the youngest in the stroller. We made the one-mile trek through the neighborhoods to the park and it was relatively uneventful. The second we arrived, they all ran off and started playing. Excellent, a moment to myself to sit down and just enjoy being outside. Or so I thought…We had only been there for about 5 short minutes and I noticed that my youngest was bending over saying the dreaded words that could instantly send me into sheer panic… “my tummy hurts”. My stomach sunk and I immediately feared projectile vomit was in the near future. If she pukes, then what am I going to do? Who will watch her so I can go to work tomorrow? How am I going to function on being up all night? Now the other two are going to get it and then my husband and I will get it…and so on…I tried to rationalize and talk myself down. Maybe she just hit her tummy on something on the playground. Maybe it wasn’t anything at all. Wishful thinking. A few minutes later she did it again, but this time I knew exactly what was happening. She had the classic look I had seen every day for the last three years…the bright red face, half squat, and blank stare. It was her pooping face. Honestly, my first reaction was complete relief that it was poop and not puke. I could deal with poop all day long, but puke? No way. I just can’t do it. I left my comfy spot on the park bench and I walked back over to the stroller to grab the supplies to clean her up. That’s when I realized that I had forgotten to grab a pull up and wipes before we left the house. Grrrrr…..How could I forget these important items? I have been a mom for a long time and I know it is just a given that someone would have to poop, pee, puke, or bleed during an one-hour trip to the park. We had only been there for five minutes and now I was going to have round up the kids and head back home. No one was happy about having to leave so soon and I ruined Evan’s life AGAIN, probably for the fifth time that day. I had to chase Avarie around park to even get her to the stroller and when I finally caught up to her, I caught the rancid whiff. Right then, I knew this was bad news. I turned her around to pick her up and the diarrhea had already traveled up her back, down her legs, and pretty much filled her neon pink shorts. It was like her diaper exploded inside her pants. Are you freaking kidding me? She is almost three years old. Why is this happening? It had been a while since I have dealt with a blowout like this. Probably since she was a newborn and sprayed poop all over me and the couch while I was changing her diaper in the wee hours of the morning. I do consider myself a bowel movement specialist, but this time, I definitely failed. I wasn’t prepared and this wasn’t your everyday poop situation. I did a quick inventory check of the stroller to see if there was anything that could help me in this “shitty” situation. I found that I had two small restaurant napkins and a pair of water shoes. Good grief…this is not looking good. I had to think quick like MacGyver…what could I do with what I had. I grabbed the napkins and swimming shoes and laid her down on the grass. I carefully removed the crap-filled pink shorts.  There it was in all its fragrant glory. It was the biggest shit explosion I had ever seen in my entire life. This was not cute newborn baby shit explosion. It was much, much worse. It was toddler shit. Real little person, nasty, stank shit. It was all over her back, stomach, legs, bottom, and now her sandals thanks to my not-so-careful shorts removal. I sheepishly looked down at my two small cocktail napkins. This just wasn’t going to cut it, but it was all I had. I wiped off as much as I could with the tiny napkins but it barely made a dent in the thick, massive amount of poop smeared everywhere. The only other thing I had was the swim shoes. How were these going to help this situation? Then, I noticed the liners of the shoes were bunched up and I realized that they were removable. My brilliant idea, I’ll remove the shoe insoles and use them to try to scrape off as much poop as I could. It may not have been the best idea I have ever had, but it was all I got. Nasty. I used both liners and there was still a “crap load” of poo left. Now what was I going to do? I used up all my supplies. I couldn’t just put her in the stroller with poop smeared all over her butt. Bingo…I’ll use the grass. People used to use leaves and grass back in the caveman days, right?  So there I was scooting my screaming toddler’s bare, poopy ass all over the grass right in front of the playground. The older kids were laughing hysterically and she was crying probably because it hurt as I slid her along the grass. The smell was horrendous and the brown streak mark enormous. All the good moms and dads who remembered wipes and pull ups were looking at me like WTF is she doing…judging. I did what I had to do. I was very resourceful in my situation. I mean, water shoe liners and scooting in the grass? Not everyone would have gone to that extreme. Even after wiping her butt in the grass, there was still poop everywhere. I don’t know where it kept coming from, but there it was. This whole process was taking so long that the hot summer sun dried some of it on her legs. Just then, an elderly man who was playing at the park with his grandchildren noticed what was going on. He asked if I needed wipes. Um….YES! Where was he 10 minutes ago as I was scraping shit off my toddler’s ass with shoe liners? I gratefully said yes, please! I was thinking that he had some with him and that it would be easy for him to quick grab a couple and pass them over to me. Nope. He yells out to his son, Steve, who was across the field coaching a soccer practice for his older grandchild. He bellowed out across the soccer field as if it was a five alarm fire “Steve, we need wipes! Wipe emergency over here, Steve! Run!” Good old Steve puts the soccer practice on hold and darts across the soccer field to see what his dad is yelling about and what all the commotion was. He runs over and sees that we were in need of wipes. When he came over to see what all the fuss was about, he didn’t bring his car keys. Poor Steve has to run back across the soccer field to get his car keys so he could unlock his car and THEN find the wipes. Now I was super embarrassed. I just wanted to put the poopy shorts on and get out of there, but now I had to wait for Steve. I am sure all the soccer moms were wondering where Steve, the soccer coach, ran off to. I thanked him, wiped her up, and put the pink poop shorts back on. We just had to get home. She was screaming because she didn’t want to leave, my son was screaming because he had accidently stepped in the poop I had smeared in the grass and it was on his shoe…I am sure we were quite the sight. I took my freak show and off we went down the long sidewalk back home. All we needed was the circus tune to accompany us on our trip. The baby kept crying because her butt hurt. She probably had grass and rocks up her butt or something horrible! On the way home, I kept getting a whiff of that nasty poop smell. I just figured it was coming from the dirty shorts. We finally made it home. Phew. I threw her in the tub and got her cleaned up. Damn. I kept smelling it. Was it in my nose? Where was it coming from? I happened to glance in the mirror as I walked by to get the towel and realized that I had a giant poop smear all over my left arm.  Well…that explains it.

Although this night was “shitty”, it really wasn’t that unordinary. Motherhood is definitely not glamorous and it is filled with so many unexpected substances and smells; you have to be prepared for anything. But I wouldn’t change it for the world. I get to be a mom to three smart, humorous, sneaky, loud, smelly, dirty and amazing kids. So, Live. Laugh. Poop.


The actual water shoes…notice the lack of the liner.


 

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When Did I Get Like This?

I’m Barrie…I’ve always been way too stubborn for my own good, strong willed, and a major pain in the ass. If you ask my mom, I have been like this since day one. I was always the kid that refused to sing happy birthday and insisted on making a crabby face for pictures. “Don’t tell me what to do” was my catch phrase, and still is to this day. Every family has one…for them (and now the Bismarks), it is definitely me. If that wasn’t enough personality for anyone to deal with, with time, I learned the skill of sarcasm, which has become my main method of communication. It’s the only way I know how to deal with all the idiots and assholes I keep encountering as I make my way through this world. So please, as you read this, be sure to use a sarcastic tone to get the full effect. 

Rather than say I’m crabby or insensitive, I like to think that I am real and easily unimpressed. The Urban Dictionary description of “Barrie” is realist bitch. That pretty much sums it up! Why sugar coat everything and pretend to like people? The world is a scary place. We don’t live in Candy Land and I see no reason to pretend that I’m perfect and pretend to love everyone and everything. If you prepare for the worst, you are less likely to be disappointed. That’s how I have always lived my life. Most people are just genuinely assholes and out for themselves…or at least the majority of the fools I have met thus far.

Even though I am the realist bitch, I’ve always been responsible, followed all the rules, and thought that I made the right decisions in life. Where did all that get me? Absolutely nowhere. I have found myself trapped in a life that I once thought would be very different. At one point in time I was going to take over the world…now…I’m just too exhausted and stressed to do anything. 

When I was a child, I couldn’t wait to be a grown up and be a mom. In my child-like mind, it was SO much better than being a kid, a teenager, or even a college kid. I had absolutely no idea what being a grown up really meant. I thought it was all about driving a car, having credit cards, wearing make up, and making my own decisions about what I wanted to eat for dinner. I thought having kids was going to be all fun and games and like playing house and babysitting. Turns out, it’s not really as great as I once thought. This so called life has made me into a gigantic ray of sarcastic sunshine to anyone who knows me.

I’m not sure when it actually happened or what the turning point was that made me realize it, but I just woke up one day and realized, this is it. This is life. How can this be it? What had happened to me? What happened to all those dreams I once had? How did I become a thirty-something working mom with three kids? Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband and kids, but there are times they drive me completely crazy and bring me to the brink of insanity. It’s been “one of those days” for about 8 years straight now. Sleep deprivation, living in filth, and being flat broke is now the norm.  Between work, kids, and just life in general I am worn out, burned out, and pooped out. I’m not the mom I imagined I would be. Before I actually had kids, I longed to be the perfect mom. The stereotypical suburban stay-at-home mom that volunteers at the kid’s school, brings homemade cupcakes to baseball practice, and shuttles their kids around all over town to different fun activities…wearing my giant diamond ring and driving my Range Rover. But you know what? That’s not me at all, in fact, I don’t even want to be that. I have learned over time that image means nothing, it’s pretend. Your actions, that says it all.
During my most recent life transition, I have learned that people talk a good game. But honestly, damn near everything that comes out of most people’s mouths is complete bullshit. Life, work, relationships, its all a big mind game. People love you until they are threatened by you. So, knowing that, I choose to be real. I’m not perfect. I’m not rich. I’m not tan and I don’t wear Lulu Lemon workout clothes to the health club every day. I’ve definitely made mistakes (man, have I jacked some stuff up). You know what else? Sometimes, I’m not even a nice person. I’m the yeller and screamer when I get frustrated. I’m the obsessive worrier that over analyzes absolutely EVERYTHING.  If I think you’re a moron, you’ll know it by the look on my face. I just can’t hide it. My kids call me the fun hater, maybe I am. I am pretty sure “no” or “stop that” comes out of my mouth every time it opens…or at least that is how I feel. My parenting style is “if you are not barfing, bleeding, or dead you’re fine.” I’m sure the perfect moms at the park judge me. But you know what? My kids are alive, happy, smart, and healthy. So I must be doing alright.

So there it is. When did I get like this? Who the hell knows. Is life ever going to change? Who the hell knows. But this is it. All I can do is embrace the shit storm and carry on.
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