I was suffering on Tuesday from a terrible stomach virus. My poor belly felt like a giant clenched fist that was repeatedly getting stabbed with a sharp, splintered stake. Plus, I was shitting fire.
Lily had the day off from school, so I decided to call in to work so that I might recuperate. The ever-faithful Isabel was coming for a few hours to take the kid out to play so mommy could sleep, and Lil and I spent the morning laying about and taking it easy.
The two of us were sprawled on the carpet watching the Barbie movie for the umpteenth time (I rue the day I bought that piece of shit DVD), when suddenly I felt a giant gas bubble start demanding its release out my ass. So I simply let it go.
Except it wasn't a gas bubble.
It was all liquid, baby.
This is what my college friends and I used to call 'Oops Poops', since heavy drinking and heaping servings of nachos and mini cheeseburgers at 3 in the morning would sometimes produce this same effect. Mind you, for some of my friends. Never for me. Never, ever for me.
I think it's probably been a good 29 years since I shit my pants. In fact, I remember distinctly the last time...it was in first grade, and I was sitting on the cold tile floor of my classroom in the dark, watching a film strip about bugs on a rainy Friday. I needed to pass gas and instead totally squirted myself.
With heart-stopping horror I realized what I had done, but I popped a finger inside the waistband of my Wonder Woman undies to make sure.
Then I was sure.
I came away with a fingerful of poop and desperate not to be found out, quickly wiped it on the floor in front of me. I remember a couple of kids sniffing suspiciously and turning around and me kind of looking around too, like, "What disgusting pig would have shit their pants in FIRST GRADE?!?!"
Well, this incident the other day wasn't quite as embarrassing, since I was in my own living room, wearing my soft, comfy PJs, and was able to cup my hand under my behind and run to the bathroom where I quickly stripped and hurled myself into the shower.
"Mommy just had a little accident, baby! I'll be out in a second!" I sing-songed as I scrubbed myself raw.
This of course prompted Wee One to pad into the bathroom, where she spied my stained PJs and immediately cried, "MOMMY! Did you POOP your PANTS?!"
"It happens, honey," I called nonchalantly. "Even to grownups." I was determined not to make this a big deal. Whatevs, right? Everyone shits themselves sometimes. I'm certain of it.
I cleaned myself up, washed out the PJs and slipped into some soft sweats. The doorbell rang and it was our Isabel, there to save me.
Lily, The Informer, swung open the door and greeted her with, "Mama's not feeling very well today. She pooped in her pants."
I honestly don't know which experience is more humbling:
The stomach flu, or motherhood.
16 hours ago