Shit is fleeting…unless you’ve left your handbag at home.
You literally cannot make this shit up. I’m talking metaphorically but I’m also referring to my afternoon yesterday.
Wednesday afternoon is the one time in the week where I have non-negotiable one-to-one time scheduled in with Big. (Big is 6 and while he is ALL about his dad, he is a sensitive little soul.) I have been working hard to nurture our relationship and support his emotional wellbeing especially since he’s been through a lot these last couple of years. So on a Wednesday I clock off work at 3pm, pick him up from school and on the short walk home we make a plan of all the fun things we’re going to do before we go collect Little from nursery.
Yesterday we came up with a whole host of things to do…after he’d eaten seven snacks of course…and he also wanted to leave early so we could run around the park near nursery before dinner. Well, there were a few moments of stress - we’re moving house and Hubster was crazy stressed about that and work and everything else - some moments of frustration (I just can’t get this lego piece on!!!) and lots of moments of fun!
Fast forward to leaving the house and Big popped his wellies on (this should have given me a clue as to his plans…red flag!) we grabbed our coats and off we went. I glanced casually at my bag in the hallway but figured the only thing I really needed was my phone and keys…Oh Covid, how you make me forget what it is like to be out with children!
After stopping to collect Little from nursery, we walked over to the park and the two of them started running around. I grabbed my phone to sneak a few snaps of them blissfully enjoying their freedom, died a little inside every time Little jumped in the muddy puddles as she was NOT wearing her wellies, reprimanded myself for being so uptight, after all the shoes could probably do with a clean and she was loving it so just relax…
I watched them running joyfully uphill, shouting and laughing, a little moment of heaven. As Little was too slow, Big grabbed her hand to help her along. “May you always support one another and work together” I was thinking as a proud Mama…until all of a sudden they were going too fast for Little and she toppled over. Nothing particularly extraordinary, I hear you say. Except what are the odds that while lying in the grass wearing her white puffa coat, no less (thanks Hubster for that awfully stylish and oh so kid-friendly buy) and with her hair in the mud, that she would land with her hands in a big pile of dog shit?
All of a sudden my children’s blissful freedom and my relaxed abandon were replaced with a scramble for tissues in pockets, tears and shouts of “Don’t. Touch. Anything!”
If only I had my handbag with me. The gloves, the wipes, the tissues - I used to be prepared for everything before I got used to being at home all the time. I used to find security in having every thing for every situation but having not done it for a while I can see how exhausted I was constantly being switched on to what may or may not happen. It would be a lie to say I didn’t miss the bag in this instance but I must also admit I am grateful for the freedom of just being in the moment, shit and all.
While it’s quite hilarious now (well maybe not yet but I’m sure it will be tomorrow) it was NOT at the time. Big was crying because he felt responsible and because he could tell I was annoyed…which quickly turned to vomiting from the smell and thought of poo on Little’s hands (him not me). That’s all I need, I thought, as I took a deep breath trying to summon my inner Zen goddess and lead them back to the car to drain the last dregs of antibac from the bottle which was totally useless by the way. If you’ve never tried to clean dog poo with antibac (and why would you, this crap only happens in the bad movie that is my life) let me save you the trouble, your money and the antibac, in case people start hoarding it again. It made no difference at all.
Somehow we managed to get home without any more drama. Well, no more than usual. It’s hard to believe all this is part of my dream life which I have been slowly and steadily working to create the last few years. Running, laughing and dog shit.
But here is my point (at last, you say). Shit is fleeting. It got washed off because we have running water and lots of soap. The clothes got cleaned (thank you washing machine), the hair/bodies got scrubbed (thank you bathtime), the bellies were filled (thank you oven for slowly cooking our roast while we were exploring) and everyone’s mood shifted back to balanced.
I think when we’re in a tough space it’s hard to remember but just like the moments of magic pass, so do the ones full of shit (metaphorical and literal). If we are prepared to let them go instead of holding on to them, those crappy moments make way for more magic and more shit. It’s all fleeting. Our job is simply to enjoy the moment we are in. And wash our hands.