“Mommy, will there be poop in Heaven?”
It was just a typical Tuesday. There was a doctor’s appointment about an hour away and two little traveling companions needed to go along with mommy. Mommy wasn’t thrilled, but armed herself with Twizzlers (a time-consuming, but not too sticky, snack) and special juice bottles, and they started off.
The appointment went well. The littles snacked on their treats, charmed all the nurses, and behaved just as a mother would hope. They, as always, prompted many questions about the family because they were so close in age.
One of the nurses followed them out to the lobby to share again just how blessed she was to hear about the family and to give Mommy a hug. She asked a few more questions and they chatted a little bit.
Suddenly, from the front seat of the stroller came one of the loudest farts Mommy had EVER heard (and she’s heard ALOT). The cheeky grin on the face of the little man responsible suddenly turned to panic and everyone instantly knew that he had severely underestimated what was behind that fart. Mommy wasn’t frazzled. She pulled the change of clothes out of her purse (isn’t she a well-prepared Mommy!?) and they headed to the bathroom. Even though the pants weren’t too badly damaged, Mommy went ahead and wrapped them up with the undies, because, you know, she was prepared.
As it so happens, this particular Tuesday was destined to be a bit more chaotic than originally planned and as they headed back home, Mommy got a call that informed her she needed to take baby in for another checkup on an old infection that just would not go away.
“Would 2:20 work?”
She sighed as she recognized her time at home had been whisked away, but was still cheerful.
They picked up child #3 from preschool, ate a fastfood lunch (rather late), and headed to the new appointment. Both littles had slept nearly the entire ride home and she had grand visions dancing in her head of how well-behaved they would all be at this next appointment.
However, when she parked the van and opened the side door, an unmistakable smell assured her that at least some things had not gone as planned. Same child. This time the clothes were completely unsalvagable. As was the coat. And the blanket that had been snuggled. As she tried to clean up the bulk of the mess with wet wipes and what was left of the blanket, she began to regret her treatment of the pants from earlier. They probably would’ve wiped up ok at the time…
“Oh, well, I guess we will make do.”
And so, with little brothers pants ending somewhere far above his shoes, no socks, and a jacket but no shirt, the unfortunate child was placed in the stroller with big sister to ride into the appointment for baby. However, after Mommy had carried baby on her hip into the building, through the hallways, up the elevator, and all throughout check-in…upon putting him down in the waiting room she realized that what had looked like a water bottle spill on the front of his shirt was all over the back of his pants…and up his back…and…not water. And then, looking down, realized that much of the mess had already been soaked up…by her shirt.
And so, begging the forgiveness of the nurse who had just called their name, she bypassed the scale and went directly to the room where she began to clean up with wipes what definitely should’ve been cleaned in the bathtub. This child was eventually re-dressed in a t-shirt, no coat (oh yes, another coat had fallen victim), no pants (because…brother…), no socks, and…winter boots.
Oh, and Mommy hadn’t remembered to pack herself a change of clothes, so poop stains and a distinct smell became her fashion of the day.
They ran out of the appointment to the car where she, with profuse apologies, put the littles back in the carseats that had fallen victim and promised baths at home. Late pickups for the rest of the kids, then home. Carseats seats set by the wash machine for later sanitation. Littles finally in the tub. Mommy breathes a sigh of relief while enjoying the splashing and giggles.
“Whew! We made it.”
She reveled in the cuteness as she towel-dried two little heads and then carried one in each arm downstairs where they were dressed in warm, clean pajamas. She placed the older in his highchair for a snack and turned around to find…that his baby brother had wandered into the other room where he was curled up in one of the unsanitary carseats happily sucking his thumb while snuggling the unwashed blanket.
Another bath for baby. More clean pajamas. Doors to the other rooms closed. Baby placed in highchair for a snack. (Question: can you still call it a “snack” when it’s nearly 5pm? Inquiring minds want to know.) Move to the left to check on brother only to notice a very distinct smell.
“Please God, please let that smell still be coming from my shirt.”
Nope. Another poopy mess. One that surpassed the bounds of the pull-up Mommy had insisted on (much to the chagrin of the newly potty-trained young man) and completely saturated the favorite undies “on top” (as per the terms of their compromise). Oh, and the pajamas. Those too.
Another bath for another boy. Mommy placed the undies in the toilet to soak while she frantically searched for the wet wipes to calm some of the chaos. Oh yes, in the other room. She returned to find her poop-covered little boy staring in disbelief at the toilet where his undies…his very favorite “fish” undies…had just disappeared from view. Oh yes. He flushed them.
Mommy begins to laugh uncontrollably while wondering if she should call hubby dearest now or just wait to see if the toilet still worked later on. She finishes bath number 4 still laughing.
An older child stands in the doorway…
“Mommy? Will there be poop in Heaven?”
Mommy smiles through her laughter and begins her thankful count. Clean shirt. Washing machine. Fresh smelling baby hair. Snuggles with clean blankets. Unseasonably warm weather (you know…because toting half naked babies out of the doctor’s office is not as frowned upon when it’s 60 out). A house full of blessings. A toilet that still flushes.
To answer your question, dear older child:
“No. No, I do not think there will be poop in Heaven.”