I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not always up to speed on world events, nation wide trends and pop culture. While I might cruise a political blog or two, I don’t usually make it to a regular news website, and hardly turn on the radio for music anymore much less news. Fortunately my friends know this and are kind enough to do things like call me and tell me if a tornado is on it’s way over as well as other happenings less life threatening but still important.
One of those news items that has filtered it’s way into my cozy life under this rock is that there is a growing trend to ban plastic bags. Madison (unsurprisingly) is on the anti-plastic bag bandwagon with a recycling program and thoughts of banning plastic bags altogether. I could pontificate on the pros and cons of this as well as the ridiculousness of passing mandates with fines that no one is going to attempt to enforce, but I’ll spare you all. Instead I’ll share an incident in which a grocery store plastic bag was the hero of the day.
This morning just after breakfast the girls took a bath together and life was good.
Then Clara pooped in the bathtub and full chaos set in.
Ivy jumped from the bathtub ran through the bathroom and into the kitchen yelling.
I removed Clara from the tub and as I was debating the best method of cleaning it up…
…Clara promptly pooped on the bathroom floor.
Ivy showed up freezing and wrapped herself in a towel, but not before dragging it through poop.
Clara, after being cleaned up from the bathroom floor incident escaped to the kitchen. (How you ask? Well I was up to my elbows in a bathtub full of fecal matter that’s how.)
Ivy watches and reports back with “MOM! Clara pooped in the kitchen… It’s really big and nasty!”
I finally got the tub cleaned and threw the girls back in aaannd the super pooper struck again.
Put girls in.
Clean bathroom floor.
Look in kitchen.
Wonder if there is any way someone else is going to clean up the “big and nasty” on the floor.
While I stall Clara starts attempting to leave the bathtub.
Now in a panic with visions of poop footprints all through the house I run for the pantry and grab The Plastic Bag.
Me, a lot of paper towels, some cleaning stuff and The Plastic Bag clean up the “big and nasty” in record time.
I curse our stupid kitchen floor with stupid cracks between all the stupid fake boards the entire time.
I throw a knot in The Plastic Bag toss it out into the mudroom just in time to catch Clara jumping out of the tub.
While drying her off I find more poop on her, or the floor, or me, it is unclear where it came from but the end result is the same…
… clean more stuff, again.
Finally I get the girls dressed and out of the way.
To do this I teach them how to be all American by giving them the computer, an armchair, a bag of popcorn and a cartoon to watch.
I clean more, mop floors, do laundry.
I pick up The Plastic Bag on my way out to do chores and swing by the garbage.
It takes a pooptastrophe for me to mop my floors and the plastic bag is not necessarily the epitomy of all evil.