Despite my philosophies on bathing, Noah has now pooped in the tub three times in his nearly two {extraordinarily long} years on this earth.  After the first two occurrences, I soothed the trauma of having to endure such Crimes Against Momanity by blogging about them.

But I am blogging about the third occasion due to the pure richness of the experience.


It all happened on Saturday: It had been a bad afternoon.

I felt impatient and emotional, completely unrelated to the fact that I was still coughing and hoarse from the illness that Noah had so kindly passed on to me.

Chris had taken the kids to the football game by himself that morning and had left me home alone to heal and get things accomplished, so I felt worse that I had no reason to be in such bad sorts.

Noah had napped for 25 minutes on the way home from Tuscaloosa, so Chris texted me and suggested that I meet them at the park at 2 pm – because that’s totally what two worn-out, cranky, undernapped kids need.

Everybody was whiny.

Nobody was happy.

And I experienced continuously increasing levels of icky.

Then Chris suggested that we ride up the road to the mall, eat dinner in the food court, and perhaps visit the toy store, two more really great things to do with attitudinally-challenged children.

We abandoned the mall at 5 pm, with the full intention of putting both children to bed record-breakingly early.

But it was Saturday night – so they had to be bathed first.

And of course their bathroom is still in shambles, so it had to be done in our tub, which is not kid-friendly due to it’s double depth and lack of removable shower head.

Ali was dramatically bemoaning me detangling her hair.

Noah was splashing her in the face and repeatedly walking over her legs, pacing the full length of the tub over and over.

(In retrospect, he must have been sniffing out the perfect spot to take a dump.)

Ali was howling about Noah splashing her in the face.

Chris was watching over my shoulder, giving me “suggestions” and offering to “help.”

The stress in the air was thicker than a snowsuit wedgie.

Ali looked to the left, gasped, and shrieked, “Noah pooped in the tub!!!!”

I looked over, and there it was.  Just one.  But wow.

It was one of those that is so massive you’re more impressed that it made it’s way out of a creature half it’s size than horrified that it’s SHARING A BATH with your two kids.

But the horror caught up with me quickly and I yanked Ali out of the tub and stood her on the mat.  Chris shrieked and pulled Noah, yelling in my direction (over the kid-cacophony) that there was more poop hanging off of Noah’s butt.

Ali stood shivering on the mat, Noah stood shivering on the floor, and I stood staring at the GIGANTIC INTRUDER in my bathtub.

This Photo Intentionally Left Blank

I thought about the wash cloth.  I thought about my bare hands.  I decided on toilet paper.

I rolled off way more than six squares and reached into the water, barely able to get my fist around the giant squid.

I pulled it out of the water and turned to lob it across the room and into the toilet.

But the lid was down.

So there I was, holding a quite impressively heavy (yet sturdy) turd in dripping, quickly disintegrating toilet paper.

And there he was, all tending to our naked, cold, poopy toddler.

…Instead of what he SHOULD have been doing, which was noticing that the toilet lid right next to him was closed.

That might have been the moment I cracked.

“Toilet! Toilet!! TOILET!!!!!!”

Chris checked up, reached around, and lifted the lid.

But I didn’t wait on him.  I launched the log prematurely.

And as it sailed in a beautiful arcing spiral five feet across the bathroom, it hit Chris square in the back of his retreating hand.

After it donged off the upright, The Rocket dropped right into the bowl.


I looked up and made eye contact with my husband.  This was a moment – a climax even – of unendurable foulness.  What was he going to say?

But he started laughing hysterically.

And then I started laughing, physically feeling the burden of stress dissipating instantaneously.

Noah continued complaining about his cold, poopy butt.

Ali didn’t take a break from whimpering about her share in the tragedy.

But we ignored our naked children as we convulsed with laughter, fully enjoying the experience of having happy hearts for the first time that night.


The moral of the story is: He who can withstand rockets of crap and return volleys of laughter is well worth keeping around.

And the takeaway from this story is: As you get everyone’s perfectly posed and coordinating Christmas photo cards over the next few weeks, don’t lose sight of what parenting really looks like.

Epilogue: The next morning, it became apparent that the pre-church bath had been completely unnecessary, as Noah and I were coughing worse than ever and Chris had developed some sort of horrible stomach plague.  It is undecided as to whether Chris’ illness was caused by his poor choices at the mall food court or from the five pound brick of e. coli that I threw at him.  But either way, our Saturday night was better because of it.

60 thoughts on “How a Turd in the Tub Saved my Saturday Night.

  1. Oh my….thanks for the morning entertainment! Priceless! I hope Chris is over the plague (my guess is the food court)…..and that the rest of you are on the mend….

    1. Chris is over it – we’re blaming it on the hand written “spicy shrimp sauce” bottle at the food court, and as this is the second time he’s given himself food poisoning in two weeks by eating questionable things, he has admitted that his stomach isn’t as young as it used to be and therefore must be a bit more thoughtful about his food choices.

      Noah and I are finally on antibiotics, so we’ll be better soon – I hope.

  2. Thank You. We are out of coffee today and your post gave me a reason to smile for the first time since my 5am alarm went off.

    Hubs and I went out of town one night and got a text photo of my daughter’s “accomplishment” of course not in the toilet – on the bathroom rug, complete with her 3 year old hand beside it for measurement. My sister (who was spending the night so we could have couple time) was NOT pleased to be stuck cleaning it up. I like to think overnights with my kids are a small (maybe not so small) reason why she remains child free.

    We seem to live too often lately in the too late for a nap, not early enough for bedtime window. I find getting them outside works best – but nothing that involves too much coordination. The last park trip pre-early bedtime Sunday night run off crazies at the park nearly turned into an ER trip when my 4 year old pulled her elbow out (again) while being held up on the monkey bars (not exactly athletic, my kids). Thank goodness Dr Dad (not licensed) was able to pop it back in while I winced.

  3. I just…well…uh…hahahahahahaha! I needed that laugh today. Poop and snot covered. Yes. That is what it looks like in the parenting trenches.

  4. Your posts never cease to amaze me with your descriptions and make me laugh. I can see the whole thing in my head. Chris is a trooper for laughing when he got launched, my hubby would have freaked out.

  5. I am laughing and totally grossed out all at the same time! I don’t ever remember my son doing that when he was younger, but if he did I’m sure I’ve put a mental block on the memory so of course I wouldn’t remember. For now I will stick with my cat’s hairballs! :)

  6. Can’t stop laughing! This reminded me so much of my eldest, before she finally potty-trained. The bath was her kryptonite. I swear she pooped in the tub at least every other time I bathed her. My husband used to laugh when I’d call and complain about it…until it happened one weekend that he was home alone with the kids……

    She’s nine now, and hasn’t pooped anywhere out of the ordinary for years. ;) And yes – laughter is the only way to survive parenthood.

    BTW, those little green mesh baskets with the long handles that they sell for cleaning out fish tanks? Best thing ever for scooping poop out of the tub.

  7. This cracked me up! Willow was a champion tub-pooper and always when she was bathing with her brother. Glad she’s outgrown that (I hope!)

  8. GROSS! As i’m eating my oatmeal. With raisins. Well, the good thing is that perhaps my bad attitude from lack of sleep will improve with this half smile.

  9. That is absolutely hilarious…. and something I would only expect to happen at my own house! lol

    BTW I read this while at work, and literally burst out laughing while I was reading it! :D

  10. As a parent of young adolescents , I find that reading stories of other’s potty training issues is very soothing. Those years DO feel long. But soon they end and you laugh even more freely about all of the gnarly mishaps. My oldest pooped on my parents newly replaced carpet. My third child had a painting with poo episode in a port-a-crib IN A HOTEL! And my youngest was mortally afraid of pine cones after her poo-in-the-tub experience. That, however, came in handy. We found that placing pine cones around the house worked just as effectively, and cost less, than getting plastic door locky thing-a-ma-bobs to keep her where we wanted her to be. Only my second child, my first born son, seemed to understand that poo is digscusting and ought to only be freed in the appropriate receptacle. He, to this day, remains the “clean freak” of my children. Thank you for sharing and helping me to reminisce. :)

  11. Oh. My. Goodness. So funny! We’ve had this exact scenario minus the premature launch. :) I love it when you reach that point where all you can do is laugh. A good reminder for me today as I once again look around and survey the destruction of my house. I honestly cannot keep it clean to save my life. I just don’t know what to do w/it all. Laugh. :)

    1. Keeping a clean house is impossible if,

      a) you have three small children,
      b) you have a baby under six months old, or
      c) your house is under construction.

      You have all three, therefore your house should look nothing short of a natural disaster. If it looks better, than you’re an overachiever.

  12. I laughed so hard! We have yet to encounter the horror of poop in the tub, but now that I’ve written that it’ll probably happen tonight. Chris is definitely a keeper!

  13. I laughed so hard I cried. My daughter left one standing straight up in the driveway this summer and yes, the size proportionally often astounds me. Thank goodness we live out of town. At the end of a culdesac. No witnesses to explain to….also not as funny when you are by yourself. Hope you are all healed up!

  14. The snowsuit wedgie phrase made me laugh so hard. Then I told it to my husband, and he laughed just as much. You always make my day….love the way you write! I hope you never stop:)

  15. Oh my gosh… I was literally crying from laughter! I can’t believe you actually chunked the turd across the room! My aim will never be good enough to even think about attempting that. Sounds like your husband is definitely a keeper.

  16. CAN’T……STOP……LAUGHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


    GONNA PEE MY PANTS…..!!!!!!!!!!!!

    I don’t know how…but I DID this to my husband who ended up practically rolling on the floor in laughter. We BOTH had a fit of hysterics together. What a blessing THAT was!!!! So thank you for sharing your poopy experience with us, Rachel. (Great lob, too. lolol!)

    xoxo laurie

  17. O. M. G.

    I’m dying! I have three kids and I’ve only ever had one poop in the tub incidence!! I can’t believe he did it again – and the fact you hit your husband with it is hilarious!! Thank you for the great laugh! You made my night!

  18. Okay, the only part I am disappointed in is that it only hit his hand. I was really hoping for a body part that we would have considered WAY more disgusting to have been turd-bombed. Like his cheek. Oh well. There’s always next time.

  19. OMG, I had to read your blog to my husband as I was laughing hysterically and he demanded an explanation! Being a mom of four, step-mom of two, grandmother of 10 & great-grandmother of 1, I can certainly relate to the experience but could never share it in the delightful (can you say “delightful” with regard to poop?) way that you did!

  20. Oh my gosh, Rachel!!
    Not only is this a hysterical story that would totally happen in my home as well, but your style of telling it is just putting me over the edge! I have a full bladder and I’m at work, slumped over my desk and wheezing with laughter! Couldn’t ask for a better mid-morning pick-me-up…
    Thank you for sharing honestly about what it really is to be a parent and for sharing your escapades with the rest of the world. =)

    1. Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it. It was one of those moments where I was really glad I was a blogger – at least I had an outlet to share.

  21. Hahahaha. I have to share this with my husband. We’ve been trying to conceive for almost a year and stories like this help. I can definitely picture the two of us in this situation and it having a similar ending. Thank you!!

    1. I’m glad it helped! We tried for two years before we got pregnant with our first, and a year before we got pregnant with our second. I know the feeling!

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