A man has his limits and I have reached mine.
I’m paying the price for my actions and I deserve your pity and respect. I woke up this morning with a bad case of heartburn. The heartburn was the result of a Pizza I had the night before. So here is my first admission: I got tired of turkey burgers, vegetables and other assorted healthier food. So yeah, I got a Pizza and I loved every minute of it.
Until this morning. I thought my stomach lining had revolted and was going to come out my mouth. Take my warning on this. If this is how your day begins, screw it. Climb back into bed, call in sick and be done with it. I should have done this. Now that I have had the experience, the next time I will do this.
It is my wife’s normal parental duty to take the kiddo to the daycare each morning. Superdad does the pickups. There is a good reason for this, mainly because I am a whimp when it comes to dropping off my daughter. I always feel like a bad parent leaving my kid alone. I have separation issues already, I don’t want to know what they are going to be like when she’s 18. My wife will dress the kiddo, feed her and then off they go.
I get to do the pickups, this is where the money is. She runs to me as soon as she sees me walking toward the door. She’s got a big grin on her face, I am Superdad and this is my #1 fan. We will then go home alone because Hossmom works late and we will watch some Star Trek and growl at some Klingons. I usually love my life.
But this morning Hossmom had a big meeting that was early so I had to take over the duties. No problem, I am Superdad.
I opened my daughters door and the stench hit me like a dozen kidney punches. I wanted to puke. I was not ready for the stink and it got into my open mouth. I know that this is not good. I know that this is going to be bad. I don’t want to even look at the crib, the carnage will be great. But my daughter is ready to get up and decides to show me what’s going on whether I want to look or not.
She stands up and puts two poo covered hands on the rail of her crib. We have a 2319, it’s time to move. I call out the alarm and the only ones that come are the dogs. Granted, they will eat the poop if I let them and there is a part of Superdad who just might. This would certainly take care of a big chore for me this morning.
I spring into action before it can get any worse. There is poo everywhere and my daughter thinks it is funny. She’s laughing at seeing me run over to her. She wants to be hugged. Sorry kiddo, you are going to have to take a rain check. I pick her up by her armpits and we head straight for the bathroom sink. You may think that the bathtub is a better option. Bathtubs are for fun cleaning. This has got to be industrial strength cleaning. We can’t fool around here, it’s up her back, in her hair. The clothes, I pitched them. I didn’t even want to take the care to wash them.
In my book, that’s a lost cause. I know that a lot of mothers out there judging me for this. I assure you, the next time this happens, you are welcome to come over and clean up the poop. Give me your number and you will be the first person that I call. Until then, the PJ’s get he garbage.
20 minutes and 30 gallons of soap and water later we are done with the cleaning. I had to pick the poo out of her hair with my hands. I love my daughter very much and if that means touching some crap with my bare hands, then so be it. My daughter was not very happy during this moment of poo cleaning. She wanted to splash and I made it very clear that there would be no splashing until the poo is gone or the dogs have eaten as much as they can. Until then, no go.
But I can’t resist her so before I take her out we have a little splashy time. I’m a whimp when it comes to her, I make no apologies.
We finally get her dressed in her best homeless looking outfit that I can fit together. I swear to god I have no idea how my wife dresses her every morning. I can never find anything. My wife said that all the clothes were clean and that she would have plenty to choose from. I could only find 1 pair of hippy looking pants and a white T-shirt. So that is what she got. If there are clothes in there besides onsies, I can’t find them.
In the car we go to finally head to the sitter’s. I can still smell the poop on my hands. We get there and it’s raining. Of course it would be, God loves to mock me. I am his number 1 joke. He’ll call it overcoming adversity, I’ll calling it getting crapped on. You decide.
I attempt to drop off my daughter but she won’t let go of my hand. She knows the routine and she loves her Dad. I am her #1 toy. My little girl climbs me every day like I a her Mount Everest. She thought that this was a special day and that I would be coming to play with her. So despite everything today, I have to break my daughter’s heart. I am no longer Superdad. I am a chump who doesn’t deserve her.
She starts crying and I’m pulling away. Each tug and she steps closer to me. The sitter has to come over and pry her off my finger. My little girl can’t understand why I won’t take her with me. I almost quit my job, then and there.
So, as Superchump, I run from that house like it’s the plague. In the rain, I get drenched but I don’t even care.
I want some tobacco so bad right now I can almost feel it. I have done more than anyone should do in the morning. I’m still headed to work because…. Well I don’t know why at this point. I just want a dip. I want it more because I am stressed.
But I persevere. I get into traffic and start my daily 45 minute commute. Normally I am ok in traffic. It doesn’t bother me. I don’t get road rage and I don’t usually flip people off. But like I said at the beginning, this is not a good day.
Mr. Bobby Asshole behind me decides that 10 miles an hour is just not fast enough for him. I hate this guy so much, I wish him nothing but the worst. He gets on the shoulder of the road and decides that he wants to cut only 4 car lengths ahead. I have no idea why people do this.
If you are going to be a jackass, at least take it all the way. If you are going on the shoulder of the road, don’t try to get back into line after 4 cars. For fucks sake, just go ahead and speed all the way up. At least that way those people won’t take you for the total jackass you are. Maybe they’ll let you in after assuming that your car broke down and you just now got it working again.
But not us. We are not going to let you cut in after that stunt that we all saw. He tries to merge and we won’t let him. He comes to my car and tries to turn and I speed up. I’m hugging the bumper like a mothers tit. Then he honks at me. At me! So I do like most people do in this situation.
I look directly ahead and pretend that, humph, I can’t hear you. I can’t see you. You are a ghost to me. I know, not very Hoss. I should have rammed my car into his 1982 Ford Rape Me Van and then proceeded slash all four of his tires. But Superchump does not want to get shot today. I have to redeem myself to my daughter.
Finally I make it to work and the unthinkable reaches my brain.
I forgot to take all the crapped on sheets out of my daughters room. I forgot to clean the railing where she smeared pooped. All of this will be waiting for me when I get home. Hossmom won’t be home until late and there is no one else but Superchump who must pay his penance.
And that was my limit. That was the specific moment that I reached it.
I have a dip in right now. It is everything that I remembered it to be.