I’m not even exaggerating when I say Carter had diarrhea for 3 weeks straight. And I don’t mean just loose stools either. It was pure water with some corn remnants (the kid loves corn. corn does not love the kid) and a sand like grit texture. Every time he pooped you could hear the splatter from across the room, and the diaper rarely kept it contained. For 3. weeks. straight. I called the nurse hotline at his pediatrician’s office after several days to see what could be the cause. They asked for specifics around the color, texture, and his diet. I’m not into journaling my son’s poo and he’s always eating something, so I couldn’t give her too much detail other than it was like a blackish green water with some lone survivors from yesterday’s binge sesh. Apparently there is a very serious distinction between black and green when it comes to What Your Poo’s Telling You so she really needed me to categorize it as either green or black. When I couldn’t answer that question with enough confidence, she made me take a picture of his last diaper. I had already thrown it in the large trash bin out in the garage, so it was a ripe 80 degrees and cooking at this point. I dug it out though, gagging as I peeled open the snaps, pulled the used wipes out of the center, and snapped a pic. I was at my brother’s house at the time so of course I made him give me his expert opinion. He works for a health insurance company so if the nurse needed more confidence in the color, maybe she would deem him a more reliable source. One quick glance and he categorized it as green which ended up saving me a trip to the ER on a Saturday morning. This is why I’m glad he had all 3 of his kids before I even had 1.

After yet another week of epic blowouts had passed, I called again and this time they recommended bringing him in. He had no other symptoms so they chalked it up as something viral and told us to weather the {shit} storm. At this point, we had gotten so lazy we were literally hosing him off in the utility sink because: 1) Changing his diaper at this age is like riding a mechanical bull. Let’s just say I’ve had better luck with the latter. 2) The grit texture made it nearly impossible to clean entirely with baby wipes, and his diaper rash was so bad he would make this heartbreaking gasping sound every time you would pick him up (think back to when you were learning to ride a bike and you would fall slamming your vagina on the middle rail. That sound.), so they suggested warm baths. 3) While a warm bath sounds nice in theory, this isn’t Spa Casa de Seeman. It’s nearly impossible to keep him from spreading his feces all over the rest of the bathroom while you wait for the tub to fill. And let’s not forget the tub is now basically a cesspool of poo particles because the wipes just weren’t cutting it. So now you have to disinfect the tub and all the toys after every bath, and ain’t nobody got time for that!

Slowly but surely in week 3 it started to taper off. And then the day we had been waiting for finally came: a solid poop. A-TO-THE-MEN! His baby book is still in the wrapper – because, second child, but this poop felt like something I would pencil in right next to his first haircut. Dead serious. Anyway, obviously this called for a celebration! I had been in Michael’s a couple days earlier and saw they had emoji balloons, including a personal favorite of mine: the poop emoji! I ALMOST bought it that day but it was $6.99 and I knew my frugal husband would disapprove of such a frivolous purchase so I made a mental note of where to find it, knowing very well I would come up with some justifiable reason to come back for it. And as my luck would have it, that justifiable reason came a mere 2 days later in the form of a solid poop! Just the thought of Carter carrying around a poop emoji balloon had me giggling to myself all the way to the store. It was my turn to pickup the boys from school so I had to bring them with me, which in and of itself is a lot of work. First they want in the cart, but not a regular cart, they want a car cart. Michael’s does not have car carts so that was completely unacceptable in Deklan’s eyes. They only have those small 1 seater carts so I proposed that Carter ride in the front and Deklan either ride in the back (pick your battles, People) or walk beside me like a big boy. He chose option 3, which was to have both of them ride in the back. Only problem is option 3 was never an option because again, their carts are small. We finally landed on mommy carrying Carter and Deklan walking beside me. I have zero control over my life.

By the time we made it to the balloon section Deklan had talked me into letting him pick out a balloon, too. Fair is fair. I did limit his choices to the less expensive silly emoji faces in a sad attempt to pretend I have any control over the situation. He chose the cynical one with one eye closed and the tongue out. Also equally as fitting for this scenario. Little did I know, Michael’s doesn’t have helium to blow them up unless you want to buy the tank for $39.99 (if I couldn’t get a $6.99 balloon past the mint app, there was no way I would get a helium tank) so that meant one more stop at Party City plus another $1.99 a piece for the helium and $1.99 a piece for the sand holders because let’s be real, they can’t be trusted to keep them from floating away the minute we walked out the store. The minute I hand Deklan his balloon to carry he starts punching it. I (admittedly a little too sternly) warned him that if he hits it too hard it will pop and mommy needs to get one picture and then he can do whatever he wants with it. The balloons ended up surviving the ride home and onto the deck where I have them stand side by side holding their balloons ready for this perfect photo op I’ve created in my mind. Here’s what happened next…

You can see Deklan’s arm rise ready to strike as he looks at me like “I own you”.

BAM. The second he hits it that smug little emoji face flew right up into the sky. Poof. She gone. Before I could even mutter “I told you so”, he fell to his knees in true toddler fashion bellowing out as if he just watched his beloved daddy fly away.

This little Honey Badger didn’t give two shits though and swooped right in, picked up what was left of Deklan’s balloon, and proceeded to parade them both around the deck screaming, “Bye Felicia!”

“But you said the lady at the store knew how to tie the balloon!” Yes, Deklan, I did say that when you were inquiring about her job; however, I also told you not to hit it or it would break, so there.

That’s when all logic went out the window and he started screaming, “GO GET IT! GO GET IT!”

Umm. No. Your mother cannot fly and I am definitely not about to go to back to two stores to get you another one. Sorry, Kid. Just another disappointing day in the life of a threenager.

You know who is not disappointed? This little boy and his poop balloon.

So yeah, I’d say that went about exactly as planned. Said no mom of toddlers, ever.

You know what I should have done? Bought that damn helium tank and bulk ordered poop emoji balloons from Amazon. Seriously, the possibilities are endless! Your husband has a bad day at work? Send him a poop balloon! Your friend breaks up with her live in boyfriend of 5 years? Send her a poop balloon! Your micro-managing boss goes into early retirement? Send him a poop balloon! Your house is a mess, your kids are a mess, and you don’t remember the last time you had a “me” day? Blow up a poop balloon and take it for a walk around the block just to show all your neighbors you don’t give a shit anymore. #yolo