I think I nearly had a meltdown today. Some may say I’m being dramatic; that this is just part of the parenting journey. But here’s the thing—I’m uniquely me. I adore my son, yet there are moments when I wish I could press pause on motherhood. That’s my reality, and it’s a genuine struggle.
Let me paint a picture for you. My son is clearly on the verge of abandoning his afternoon nap, and I am so not ready for that. I cherish those precious two to three hours each day. They’re not just a break; they’re essential for my sanity. Without them, I turn into a bit of a grouch. Just ask my husband—he’d gladly confirm that! Lately, my son has been napping only every few days, and of course, those are the days when our nanny is around. Go figure! We do have “quiet time,” which means he must stay in his room, whether he sleeps or not. If he doesn’t fall asleep, he usually opts to look at books. But sometimes, he gets out of bed and ransacks his room. Those are the afternoons I dread. Just yesterday was one of those days.
When I finally entered his room after his not-so-quiet time, I was greeted by a shocking sight—he was completely naked from the waist down—no pants, no diaper. I had seen him on the monitor, but what I didn’t see was what he excitedly announced the moment I stepped in. “Mommy, I poopied on the floor! I poopied right there, and there, and there. And I peed right there.” Oh my goodness! My toddler had taken off his pants and diaper and made a mess on the rug. As I walked in, he was attempting to clean up the poop with wipes, mimicking what we do if our dog has an accident. How precious, yet how incredibly chaotic! I was trying to keep my composure as he laughed uncontrollably.
He’s never done anything like this before. We’re currently in the midst of potty training, and he’s been holding his poops until he sleeps, so this caught me completely off-guard. I instructed him to sit on the chair. “Noooooo!” he protested. I quickly realized that was a mistake—his behind was covered in poop. I negotiated instead, and he sat on the changing table while I cleaned him up. I dressed him and ushered him out of his room.
Then came the clean-up. It felt like as soon as I picked up one piece of poop, another appeared. I changed the sheets, tossed everything into the washing machine, and broke out the carpet cleaner—all while moving like a zombie. My expression must have been one of utter defeat. I managed to keep my cool. I didn’t yell or make him feel ashamed. When he asked if I was happy, I told him the truth—I was very much not happy. I explained that we only use the potty or a diaper, and because of his mess, there would be no lollipop or cookie. He seemed to grasp the situation and promised he wouldn’t do it again, assuring me that then I would be happy.
Now, I’m sitting on the couch, and Daniel Tiger is entertaining my little one. We can move past the incident, but the emotional toll lingers, and I feel somewhat traumatized. I text a mom friend to vent, admitting that I know I’m overreacting. She reassures me that it’s a normal reaction—after all, it wasn’t glitter I was cleaning up, it was pee and poop. I’m grateful for friends who keep it real.
As I sit there, it feels like an eternity. My husband is due home soon, and my son has managed to scatter every toy in the living room, leaving it looking like a tornado hit. Meanwhile, I sit cross-legged on the couch, staring into space, feeling totally checked out. Memories of postpartum depression flash in my mind. Can it resurface, even two years after recovery? Should I reach out to my therapist? Perhaps I should consider it.
Finally, my husband arrives. He takes charge of the mess and tidies up the family room—something he knows will help his slightly OCD wife feel better. He has another chat with our son, then kisses me on the head and treats us to pizza and wine. By the time we return home, my spirits have lifted, and I’m playing and laughing with my son, the moment has passed.
I recognize that for some moms, this wouldn’t be a huge deal—even some I know. But I am who I am, and I refuse to apologize for that. My mind races at the thought of this becoming a habit for my son. But I also realize that I signed up for this when I chose to have a child. I became a mom, and this chaotic journey is part of the deal. It won’t always be fun, and I’m not always equipped to handle the tough moments. That’s the daily challenge—my challenge. And yes, the struggle is undeniably real!
For more insights on similar parenting experiences, check out this blog post. If you’re considering at-home insemination options, I recommend visiting Cryobaby, a reputable source for insemination kits. Additionally, you can find valuable information on pregnancy and home insemination at the CDC.
Leave a Reply