I was watching the kids take a bath after an excruciatingly hot day. I was sitting in my bra and shorts. Tony was walking around in his boxers, Sashimi still in his swimming trunks, playing with Lego. iBean tried to climb out of the tub, so I helped her out, dried her off a bit, then let her run off. The air-drying time would bring her some relief in the heat. I looked over at her bending over the lego bin, watching her brother. Then I saw something. I reached out my hand and caught it. I walked over to the bathroom, put the half-footer log into the toilet and flushed. Then I realized what I had just done.
I caught a shit in my HAND. My bare hand! ON PURPOSE! And for what? So I wouldn't have to clean shit off the carpet. Because I apparently would rather have to clean poop off my hands (which I use to EAT WITH) than off the carpet, which we walk on. With our dirty feet. But wait! After the log, iBean made a sequel and it was all mushy, so when Tony tried to pick it up off the carpet, he smushed it in. SMUSHED SHIT INTO THE CARPET! So my log-catching was all for naught. Because not only did I gently cradle my daughter's feces in my hand, catching it like delivering a fragile baby, I also get to scrub it out of my bedroom carpet.
And you know what the worst part is? The whole thing didn't phase me. At. All. It was like business as usual in the frickin Gross McDisgusterson house, where people apparently poop in the tub, on the floor, and now in my hand. You know how some people potty train their kids? Not me. My kids are totally hand-trained. They squat, I catch. It's easy, you all can do it, too. You just let your kids run around naked and wait for the catch. In the middle of making dinner? No worry! Don't have to run to the bathroom, just catch and dump. Or is it dump and catch? Or they dump then you catch and you dump? Either way, you always get poop on your hands. And then you use your hands for EVERYTHING ELSE in your day.
Seriously, what have I become that I can see a turtle head poking out and my first reaction is to stick my HAND there?! Why would I not find a cloth to catch it in, or pick her up and put her over the toilet? Or just let her poop on the floor and make Tony clean it up? Because apparently I am a shit-catcher. Some people catch a break. Some people catch colds. I catch shit.
And that has been my character-defining moment of the