Part Two of How a Mercedez Provided the Crappiest Morning on Record (at least, recently….)
So, if you recall, I had just dropped the older kids off at school and was on my way home, feeling like I totally deserved a star for the day: three kids, two schools, everyone on time, and fed, no forgotten lunch boxes, and most incredibly, everyone feeling happy. Miracles do happen y'all. I'm pretty sure this would qualify me for sainthood, if I were Catholic….and at all saintly.
And as I was imagining the proverbial sticker being placed on my lapel, ok, ok, on my running shirt, I drove into the garage (well, not INTO the garage like I did a few days back in the truck….but that's a different story) and was getting out when Liam opened the door.
"Mom, Mom, Mom! Solomon went poop in his diaper!" Liam exclaimed, way too excitedly under the circumstances.
"Ok, no problem, Liam. I will get him changed as soon as I….."
Solomon appeared in the door. Only, he was fully naked with poop smeared up and down his body. It was as if he had tried to cover up his accident BY ROLL.ING. IN. IT.
"Uh oh," I said, as calmly as possible. "SOLOMON! Don't touch anything!" I said, not as calmly. Then with gritted teeth: "You are supposed to go poop in the toilet!"
His face took on a very serious expression as he said, "But, I did that already. Yesterday."
I walked into the house, holding Solly at arms length, and took him into my first floor bathroom to hose him down. After he was settled in the running tub, I began my search and rescue mission. Only, without the rescue part. After retracing his VERY OBVIOUS steps in the crime scene, it became clear that he had taken his diaper off in his upstairs bedroom; tried, to no avail, to clean himself up with toilet paper in his bathroom (where I later would find all sorts of dirty paper stuck all over); carefully walked to the other side of the house and down to the bottom of the carpeted staircase where he apparently got so exhausted from the weight of the poop he had managed to carry on his backside that he plopped himself down on the very bottom step, where I would find the majority of the debris later.
At this point, being a very helpful engine, he went to clean it up himself, grabbing several fresh diapers in order to attempt to wipe himself and the carpet down. (Maybe Mom won't notice…..) Once he had finished cleaning up, he thought of something across the way and ran to the other side of the main floor, leaving a last bit or two of dangling excrement on the hardwood before returning to the entryway to wait for me. And wipe himself on the tile. While singing a happy little tune.
It takes me an hour to sweep my main floor on a good day….assuming I am working at the speed of light. It took me all morning and much of the afternoon to sweep, sanitize, mop, scrub and mop again. One floor. All because a luxury car went kerchoo…...
Somewhere during this adventure, Kurt came up for more coffee. I will admit, I was very proud of my boys for not bothering their dad while he worked downstairs. At least some lessons stick. No fire. No blood. No bother. (One less floor to clean up! Woo hoo!)
It took two days for the Mercedez dealership to detail my car (apparently it was worse than the Battle of the Bulge-ing diaper I had fought). Imagining the hours it took those grown men to scrub off the three dozen marine animal stickers (that have been glued to the windows for over eight years!) makes me giggle every time. Of course, the kids are super bummed because, as Lily pointed out, "How will we know which car is ours now?"…..as if we regularly park in a lot full of 10-year old silver SUVs that look just like ours……or perhaps she only sees the windows of vehicles? Who knows. But, it gave me two days to feel that ultra luxurious discomfort as they finished scraping the ten years of fast food and gunk off the inside of my car and then brought it back to trade for Kurt's car. They left us with the loaner for the weekend (only after asking several times if we would be okay with the loaner for a few extra days….gee, let me see….10 year old car…..brand new one….hmmmm). But quite honestly, I was extremely relieved to have my truck back….I don't know that I could face another day without it.
I jokingly apologized to our High End Car Dealer/neighbor when I happened to run into him (and by run into him I am referring to the fact that the five kids and I had completely taken over his kitchen and home when he happened to walk in early from work on Friday).
"Hey, I apologize in advance if any of your detailers quit after working on my truck," I said over the surrounding chaos.
"Oh, no one has quit yet," he replied, "but that might explain OSHA having been called in."
(I am pretty sure he was joking…..)
"Well, it isn't my fault if they forgot to wear their Hazmat suits to work today. I did warn them!" I replied.
After we left, he asked his wife if it was always like that when we're around. (I am assuming he meant was it always as fun and lively and joyful…..) She assured him it was. Because she is that kind of friend. Honest and loving….but willing to lie in order to keep feeding the strays that wander in. Oh, how bored she must have been before we moved here. Never fear dear new friend, the circus that has arrived is not leaving town anytime soon. And we even offer free delivery…..because we are just like Mercedez.
Whoa. Who knew THAT would be the result of driving a luxury car? Oh, man.ReplyDelete
Please, please, please google "O Fortuna misheard lyrics" ! !
I loved your account of your car conversation. My youngest child (the one who still remains at home, since the others went to college) likes to ask me difficult philosophical questions while I'm driving. I'd much rather pretend to be in an opera.