my days are like this

my toddler takes a steaming hot shit on top of my head and before I can process the horror one of the dogs has the turd in its mouth and we are all screaming and there are tears. this particular scene hasn't happened, there has been hot shit on my head and the dogs have had turds in their mouths, but not both at the same time. ~yet~

potty training a white male is pretty much an endless stream of urine into my face because men are useless, especially smol bb birb ones. my young blood, Iggy, is about to turn three. everyday my brain explodes with amazement at how much he is learning and the things he says are much wow and I marvel at his existence but he still cannot wipe his own ass. he isn't even close to wiping his own ass. not even once in his life has he attempted to wipe his own ass. 

here's the scene:

it's 1 a.m. and I am up late making chocolate chip cookies. Iggy keeps poking his head out of the bedroom and I want to die because bedtime started roughly 5 hours ago and this little angel will not go the f*ck to sleep and I want to watch nurse jackie and not be bothered by this child for once in my life god he is so annoying but he's so damn cute and has a huge grin and his face and is whispering "hi mom! hi mommy! mom, hey mom! hi! it me! it Iggy!" and that is adorable and soon enough he's going to be a teen hiding in his room, masturbating on my nice towels, and telling me to go fuck myself so I'm letting the baby help me bake cookies at 1 a.m. hi child protective services! LOL

kids do not "help" with anything. Iggy did not "help me bake cookies." he made me crouch into a lunging position so he could use my thigh as a step stool even though he has a stool that I brought out and set up nicely at the kitchen counter for him to use to "help" me but he didn't want the step stool, he wanted to be close to me, so demanded I use my body for him to literally walk on and he's kind of a bully so I did it and I am standing at the counter at one in the morning balancing a child on my knee and wondering why god won't smite me dead and end my painful existence. 

he took an egg and squeezed it in his fists until it broke while looking me in the eyes I don't know what that means but it gave me a frighten. 

after he's officially done fucking up my batter and making it nearly unusable, he asks to go check on the dogs in the living room (?). I am glad to get rid of him tbh and he goes off to do whatever it is he does. 

this is what he does. 

Iggy (in living room patrolling the dogs): mom?

me (in kitchen forking broken pieces of eggshell from the cookies that I offered to coworkers the next day): what's up?

Iggy: uhhhh mom?

me: yeah babes?


his underwear are off and there is shit everywhere. imagine a murder scene but instead of pints of blood there are pints of diarrhea. he's standing in a pile of poo. foot in the poo. on his legs. his olaf underwear are sitting in a dump trunk. there's a smear on the fish tank. the dogs are scared and hiding under the couch. HE IS SO SMALL HOW IS IT POSSIBLE HOW. imagine taking a diaper and throwing it at a ceiling fan just for LOLZ. we likely will have to move now can because I can't. I died I am dead I am a ghost. 

seconds after I absorb the shitshow this motherfucker who is still covered in diarrhea starts in on "mom I want a cookie." I am completely flabbergasted and am like listen you sweet newborn angel king (read: asshole) 1) the cookies aren't even in the oven 2) WE ARE COVERED IN SHIT and he's very calmly like "give me a cookie or I'll scream" and is giving me the most hateful look and I remember how he crushed that egg earlier and am so fright. 

I can't believe he's turning three my heart it hurts


diddle knabb lives in chicago. you can follow her on instagram @diddlemepink

column originally appeared in Gamut Magazine December 2016