Wherever I Am, There's Always Pooh

Throwback post, from eight years ago; back to when parks could be visited daily, and Antibacterial Soap was aplenty.

Last week I experienced one of those moments, you know the moments which really highlight the wonders of motherhood. I was in the park with three out of four of the boys, waiting for one of them to finish his after school club.

My almost three year old was testing to see if the boundaries of disobedience were the same in a park as they are in the house, which of course they are. I had approached him as he wasn't responding to me, and that's when I realised that he had wet himself, which may have been part of the reason for him not coming to me. (That and a slightly stubborn streak).

I explained that I needed to change his trousers, so he held my hand and we walked over to the buggy. I quickly pulled his trousers off, and it was as the poo rolled onto my hand and hit the park floor, that I realised my son had actually had more than a wet accident. These are the moments in life which no one ever prepares you for, no matter what books you read. 

I sat for a few seconds wondering what to do and gritted my teeth as another child in the park told me I shouldn't bring pooey babies there. I reached into my bag only to realise that I had made a rookie mistake; I had left the house without baby wipes! Who does that after eight years and four children? I even recently gave a mum-to-be a survival kit; consisting of wipes, anti-bacterial gel, wine, Calpol and chocolate. I could have done with this kit on this very day. 

My other two boys came to help, watch and comment on my disastrous moment. They offered to get me some leaves to clean my poo covered hand. I didn't answer them with my best motherly, calm and gentle tone. They were just being helpful, and leaves were quite a good suggestion. It was more that their 'help' wasn't adding to the situation, which I was trying to be in control of. I washed my hand with Ribena instead. I pulled my boy's trousers up and tried to pull his shirt down a bit more to disguise his mishap. I still had ten minutes to wait until the after school club finished, so the poo-child ran off to play again. I chose to delete everything that had just happened, from my mind. With my head held high, smiling at my boy, I tried to ignore the gross smell that was emitting from him, and the frutier gross smell that was coming from my hand as I waved at him.

When we reached home, I showered my son while squirting bubble bath all over his rear. I threw his pants away, replenished my bag with wipes, cleaned the buggy, and then finally an hour later cleaned my own hands; post poo, post Ribena, post bum cleaning, post buggy cleaning, with anti-bacterial soap. As I was doing so, I wondered whether there could really be a God-moment I could grasp for. I thought back to the morning when I had met with some other mums and we had looked at Ephesians 2 together.

"For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

I held on to the fact that God created us mums to do good works, which He prepared in advance for us to do. And that God's hands are clean, and if I am His handiwork, then I am made clean by Him too. Oh I know it's a leap, from poo to God. But God knew the good works us mums would have to do. To be honest, He sees all the crap! And just as I held my son's hand to walk him over to the buggy, to deal with his stuff...God holds my hand, and helps me with my stuff too.