Taking daughter shopping for Clearance aisle kitty and doggie costumes at Target on my “day off”: $20.00

Taking daughter to the park only for her to poop on the slide and call me stupid: 1 hour of precious “day off” time wasted on ungrateful devil baby.

Working a full day yesterday and letting grandparents deal with her instead: Priceless

In case you didn’t notice, I’ve added a new category called Oops! I Crapped My Pants!  Anything under this heading will have to do with scatological events leading to either humiliation and inconvenience in public or nasty messes found around the house.  Between my daughter who still refuses to poop in the potty and two pets, I live a very scatty life indeed.

I know you’re dying to hear all about it!

I’ve never been cool, and every time I try to be it just ends in disaster.

Yesterday I decided to leave the suburbs and head to the big city for a little shopping and a visit to the museum with my daughter. I left the house feeling quite confident that we were both lookin’ fine in some new clothes from Target. “We’ll blend in nicely with the East Side crowd,” I thought to myself as I drove to the Whole Foods market for a good ass raping.

I pulled up in my filthy 8 year old Saab and parked amongst the shiny new Range Rovers and Volvo wagons. My daughter cried and blew raspberries through most of the store because A: she didn’t want to ride in the carriage, and B: I refused to pay $7.99 for 1/4 lb of organic jellybeans. A woman in the cheese department asked if we needed help. I mumbled something even I didn’t understand and ran away. One bag of groceries and $85.00 later, we moved on to the Children’s Museum for round two of “Go home hillbilly!”

Upon our arrival, the East Side mommies were assembled in the Water Room looking totally composed and effortlessly stylish. They were casually speaking French to each other and to their children. I felt tres stupide as we have enough trouble finishing a sentence without using profanity of some sort around our house. They had natty designer bags for all the mom essentials. I shoved everything in the bulging pockets of my fleece. Their children were well behaved and managed to keep the sleeves of their hand-embroidered, satin-lined sweaters dry. My daughter plunged both arms deep into the water tank and came out drenched to the shoulders. She even soaked her sneakers after tossing a sopping bean bag into the tank and splashing everyone including herself.

Including the mommies.

I have to say that the real coupe de grace came when she shat her panties right there at the fish tanks. This promptly ended the day and we went limping back to the suburbs in our old car and our beat Target outfits, literally soaking wet and smelling of shit.

I’m not even going to mention how she opened the door to the ladies room just as I was pulling my pants back up, exposing me, my fat ass, and my Target underpants to everyone. I’ll spare you the details on that one…