Why do I try?

In life, as you move forward, you must take on more responsibility for things that are important to you. Omar and I are transitioning into taking a larger role in the upkeep and maintenance at his family's cabin as the elders look forward to more time traveling and relaxing. This being said, this weekend was one where I was going to get some serious cleaning done after a long winter build-up of dust, grime, spider webs and general crud.

Since I took the kids up with me Friday morning, I really didn't start accomplishing a thing until 8pm when they went to bed. Three bathrooms, one entry, 2 flights of stairs and multiple area rugs later, I fell into bed very happy that the place would look nice for the larger family's arrival on Saturday.

Saturday morning's energy was spent encouraging Spencer in his ongoing potty development. Underpants are exciting, and bribery with M&M's (don't believe the experts, it works) is going well. As I am out planting flowers, I asked Max to see if he could figure out why Spencer was crying (a painfully frequent event that just doesn't stir the mama response that it might in other mom's or for other kids). The response: "Mom, Spencer went poop in his underpants!"

Thus, down I come from the flower box planter to deal with a different fertilizer all together. There stands Spencer in the entry way, outer and underpants at the ankles, pee filling his right croc, poo down both legs, crying. This redefines "sticky situation" as I try to get the clothes off without further disgusting spread. I get them off, run for the wipes, tell him to stay put and continue to maintain my cool.

Then, I lost it. As I return, wipes in my clutches, I realize he has developed something terrible in the process: Poo-foot. Prints are now on the bathroom floor, the entry floor, and TWO area rugs. [insert primal scream]

Whoever defined entropy was clearly a parent...