Fireman Sam.

Today has officially been the laziest babysitting day I have ever had. With this particular young boy a typical day consists of laying on the ground sleeping, hearing the bell ringing, putting on our imaginary boots and hat, running to the fire, putting it out, and running back to the firestation to sleep. This is continuous and unless I can distract him with something else for a brief ten minutes, we do this all day. Let me also share that the time of sleeping is simply the time it takes for me to get to the ground and get back up, not quite my idea of rest before putting out another fire. This crazy running around being a fireman is so joyous to me. I have been here since 9:30 am and we have yet to do that once. Instead we have spent over an hour watching Fireman Sam. If you know me at all I do not watch tv. Letting children I babysit watch tv is the biggest no no I could ever perform as a babysitter. End of story, that is how it has always been. So I feel defeated as a babysitter today. I mean, he did just have surgery on Wednesday so his desire to just sit and cuddle with me is understandable and even a little cozy for me since I just love cuddling with little precious two year olds. But I still feel like a lazy bum.

When he fell asleep for his nap I did the normal, run through and clean up the books we had read and wash the two plates and cups we had dirtied for lunch. But since in three hours I get to begin ...
sad midsentance meltdown.
I heard some whimpering so I almost killed myself trying to get off this rolly chair and tripping over a little child sized chair to see what was wrong. He was just out of bed as I got there and as soon as I knelt down by him I knew exactly what was wrong... Poor boy pooped himself. In all of his time potty training he never pooped his pants and once in the many many times I was over he peed himself. This kid's pro. So this pooping experience was clearly directly related to the surgery. He was an emotional wreck as I tried to get him cleaned up and back to bed as quickly as possible and I just hurt for him. The pain he was feeling physically and emotionally was in his eyes as he looked at me and his touch as he grasped my neck and put his cheek next to mine.

My excitement to be a mom is still here, but I just experienced a pain for a child I have not even known for over a year over an incident of pooping his pants! I did not conceive him or bear him. I was not there for his first steps or his first words. I did not hold him as an infant as he slept against my chest. If I can have that type of pain in my heart over poopy underwear of a child that is not even mine... I am going to be a wreck as a mother. I was about to type end of story but realized I say it too much and at very inappropriate times. Like the time earlier in this post I wrote end of story in the middle of my story. Clearly not the end.

Well my heart still hurts for him and the whole my hair is greasy and I am not wearing deoderant today to go pick up my killer awesome boyfriend from the airport in three hours and then spend all evening with him in my disgustingness but it does not even matter because last time I checked he even loves me when I am a nasty mess story I was about to tell does not really matter anymore. I am a weirdo and just want to go sit by my little boy until he wakes up.

End of Story.