The Ninja of Poop

Before I had kids, I used to imagine parenting very differently. It was a lot of images of ProEx portrait sessions, cheering from the football sidelines and getting my dancers dressed for their recitals. It was NOT wiping vomit off the floor or physically putting myself between a couple of my daughters before they scratched each others eyes out. Oh well... I wouldn't change it for the world.
Last Monday night was another day of snow. This has been the snowiest winter I can ever remember. As a result, it's been making my commute home from work a lot longer than it normally is. When I got home on Monday, I realized I was going to have to take Sophie (my 11 year old) to the doctor. She hadn't been feeling well for a week. She had just done the Polar Plunge in White Bear Lake a few days before, and I had a sneaking suspicion I was going to feel pretty guilty going to the doctor. We dropped her 8 year old sister, Chloe, off at gymnastics and headed to the clinic. I also had my 6 year old son Wyatt with me. After an hour long wait/visit, we left with a prescription for antibiotics to clear up Sophie's case of strep throat (nice work, Mom. Way to encourage her to jump in a frozen lake) We stopped at the pharmacy, then I brought Sophie and Wyatt home. Still had to pick up Chloe. While waiting in the parking lot of the gymnastics place, some driver not paying attention backs into my car. My vehicle that I've made all of 4 payments on. I was so upset, I came out of that car like my head was on fire. After seeing that there was no damage and chastising him for not clearing the snow off the back window, I grabbed Chloe and we left for home. At this point, I was exhausted. My husband works afternoons and evenings, so I do all the single-mom running around during the week. To every school event, dance class, activity session - you name it.
Here's my deal with bedtime: At the beginning, I'm the sweetest mother ever. I give hugs, kisses and sometimes even lie down with them. But then, by the 4th or 5th time that they sneak out of bed "for just a glass of water" I start to lose it. All I want is some down time to sit on the couch and watch the shows I've recorded (like Maury or Intervention... shows that make me feel better than some other hoarders and alocholics out there). So on Monday night my nerves were just shot. No one was listening to me. Then I went into the bathroom and realized one of them had clogged the toilet. EVERYTHING had spilled up and out and onto my bathroom floor. Of course all the kids denied it was them. After 15 minutes of cleaning, scrubbing and gagging, I finally had the bathroom cleaned. I carefully scooped up the towels and rugs and brought them to the laundry room. At that point I felt something warm and wet fall on my foot. That's when I screamed and started flailing the arms and legs. I thought it was a turd. But alas, I looked down and it was just a cough drop. I could not pour myself a glass of wine fast enough after that.
Two nights ago, in another night of exhaustion and just wanting bedtime to get here, my son walks out of the bathroom and announces "Someone must have clogged the toilet again. My socks got wet when I stepped on the bathroom floor." I wasn't sure if I was going to scream or cry. I think what I did next was a mixture of both. Do you ever have those moments when you "lose it" as a mom? When you can actually step back and see yourself and how you're acting? And not be able to stop it no matter what? That was me. I came out of the bathroom with the plunger, practically brandishing it like a Samurai sword. I'm surprised I wasn't swinging it over my head. My kids looked at me like I had lost my mind, which in a way - I momentarily did. All I can remember is yelling something along the lines of "If none of you know how to wipe your butts without using an entire roll of toilet paper, let me know so I can re-train you!" I sent my husband a text saying I was exhausted, I needed a break from the kids and I was about 2 minutes away from the bell jar. Thank god for the weekend.