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Here I go again talking about poop. poop, poop, and more poop. I can’t help it, it is a big part of my day. I realized yesterday that I am actually the Poop Pit Crew.
I’m not a big Nascar fan nor do I pretend to know the ins and outs of what they do but I think there is parallel circumstances in which myself and the pit crew converge. If you have a toddler you probably know exactly what I’m talking about. The toddler races about the house, he bumps against furniture, skids out on the floor and unless its a complete crash and burn my assistance is not required. UNTIL, there is a blow out and I don’t mean tires. My little race car is very reluctant to take the time to stop for a change so I usually have to wrangle him down and change him as quickly as possible so that he can get back to the race. And in under a minute he is changed and off to the races and I am left with the aftermath.
I change about eight blow-outs a day (including my 9 month amateur racer). Each change requires timing, precision and speed. This job is not for the faint of heart, the pay is lousy, and it won’t make you famous but it is one of the privileges of being called “mommy”.
Want to join my Poop Pit Crew? I’m now accepting applications angela@momsfirststop.com
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