Monday, 3 October 2011

Befuddlement and Poo

I love the word befuddled.  It conjures up confusion in an eccentric white bearded wizzarding kinda way. The dictionary defines befuddled as so ......

1. To confuse
2. To make schtoopid with drink

This post is concerned with the former definition.  I wish it was about the latter but apart from the odd glass of pinot grigio I still haven't found the opportunity to make merry with alcohol since Little A stamped her presence on the world. These days its a cup of chamomile and I'm anyone's.  Oh well <sigh>.

Anyhow over breakfast I find myself confused about the direction my site is heading in (me and the site);  in particular about the writing style of Older Mum.  The site's static pages I like to think are fairly clear and informative.  Then I turn my beady eye to the blog and I have to sadly admit to cringing at some of my attempts at 'creative writing'. Is it too wooden? Is it too obscure? Most of all is it interesting? It's dawning on me that there is really quite an art to this blogging malarky. 'C'mon old bird' I say to myself, 'loosen up your letters.'

To add to my befuddled state I then get in a tizz worrying about clients stumbling across me on the interweb and therefore whether it's a good idea to include personal images .  But then I haven't disclosed my name and Older Mum might seem a tad austere without some friendly photos. 

I then started fretting - now I really am having a Woody Allen moment - about the domain 'Older Mum'. I don't want to marginalise anyone or myself for that matter with this name after all the experience of motherhood cuts across all ages. Maybe I should've just called my self neuroticnaturalbornworriermum.com instead.

So this morning as my brain was on hyper worry mode with all of the above unbeknownst to me Little A called forth a landslide filler into her nappy. This happened while we were both pottering in the kitchen after breakfast.  I can't believe I didn't notice but then I was too busy unravelling the spaghetti mess of thoughts busying my head. I then vacated the kitchen leaving Little A to follow behind me.   She was due a change anyway and as I awaited Little A's reluctant arrival in the bathroom for her 'go to the park nappy' I had no idea of the poo masterpiece taking place behind me.

Note - at this point Little A is only wearing a nappy and short sleeved vest with poppers on the bottom. Little A appeared.  I changed her enormous nappy which I noticed looked rather leaky.  

We then sang the nappy song which I really want to share as it's probably the best made up song I've conjured up thus far in my mummy career. Apologies in advance for the lack of musical accompaniment .......

Good bye nappy
Thank you for taking care of me
Good bye nappy
For soaking up my pee
Good bye nappy
Thank you for taking care of me
Good bye nappy
For soaking up my pee (repeat)

It wasn't until I left the bathroom that I noticed the treasure trail of peanut butter stylee plop deposits leading all the way along the corridor from the bathroom, into the living room and ending at the bottom of the stairs that leads to the kitchen (yes, its in the roof). Oh noooooooooo!  I hate poo!

When I arrived at the bottom of the stairs and looked up all I could see was poo smeared into the brand new carpet of each stair that Little A had bum shuffled down.  Like the parting of the red sea the line of poo divided the stairs with impressive precision. If my husband, who is currently overseas on business reads this, ''darling it's all under control and if there are any stains we'll just tell the guests it was curry.''

Cue military style clean up operation with soapy water, disinfectant and muchos cloths. Miraculously Little A amused herself with books as I crouched down with my water filled bucket to vanish the offending mess away.  I hate it when it gets in your fingernails. Ugh. Red faced and sweaty, note I am not perspiring and glowing but sweating (it's 27 degrees on 3 October!) I dive into the shower after mission poo is completed.  Then finally, finally we manage to make it out the door for a quick visit to the park. All in the days work of a tired older mummy.

Moral of this talebecome befuddled and you may risk ending up in the stink. 

The end.

10 comments:

  1. Mmmmm, nice! Been there. It's crap. It really is. :)

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  2. Sounds just like my evening! Oh it's hard sometimes!

    By the way I think your blog is great. Older mum as a name doesn't put me off - as I'm middling aged mum - or something. The pictures you have are lovely and it's really easy to navigate.
    Hope your feeling less befuddled - and yes it's a great word.

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  3. Hi I'm here from Love New Blogs

    Pleased to find your blog as I am another older mummy. Kind of wish I hadn't read this particular post to the bottom - Yuck!

    Great song though!

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  4. Hi there. Yes I'm also far too old and cranky for the job, so I too love your blog - and this post. The poo story is classic and reminds me of the time my partner was feeding my daughter on his lap, a tuna sandwich as it happens. Anyway, my partner has no sense of smell at all, so he was unaware of the tuna-mayonnaise coloured poo amassing on his trousers. When he did notice, he thought my daughter had dropped her food ... and (gag) .... ATE some of it!!!! There were no frenchies after that for a while I can tell ya!!!!

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  5. Ugh. Those days never leave you. I remember my little boy kicking off his pants the first (and last) time he did a poo in them - so it went all up the walls and all over the floor. Think I swore a great deal scrubbing it off! Nice to know we are not alone with such stuff!

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  6. I think your title does you justice and you should be proud. I remember many many moons ago ( when I was a young mummy) daughter no1 letting rip at weeks old, I cut her babygrow, rubbers and nappy off of her and the whole lot went in the bin...no way was I finding a way to pull her out of the undone babygro, undo the rubbers, take out the nappy pin and then wash them all....and baby got unceremoniously held in the shower

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  7. Arguably the badge of a true mother is someone else's poo under your nails.
    Don't fret about your writing. In my opinion it's great and you have to go with your inner flow to a certain extent.. poo permitting.

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  8. Ah, but you can laugh about it now, right? Nothing beats a good poo tale.

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  9. This is hilarious! Thank you so much for brightening up an otherwise dull Friday! This is what airing old blog posts is all about - brilliant!

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    Replies
    1. Thank you - it's great to return to the older posts!

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