5 Bedrooms, 4 Baths and a Poop Log
I knew it wouldn’t be easy of selling a house and keeping it “show ready” with a bunch of kids and dog, but I thought I was prepared for the chaos. I was sure I could handle the last minute frantic-cleaning and be able to leave the house spotless each time we had a showing. Apparently, I had no idea what I signed up for…
Thursday was quite a doozy, so I did what I often do when I’m at my breaking point. I called a friend to commiserate. Being a good friend, she told me a story that made me laugh and put my bad day into perspective. It ended with a log of poop.
I share the funny story with her permission, though I did change her name. Not because she asked me to, but because I always thought it would be fun to write “names have been changed to protect the innocent.”
Here’s what happened to me, and “Candy’s” story to trump it (hell yeah, if I’m gonna make up a name it might as well be a good stripper name). Hang on for the poop kicker at the end….
Caught Red Handed
Thursday we had a showing and I was busy with the usual last-minute madness. Desperate to keep the kids occupied for five minutes I turned on the TV for Molly and Allie and plopped Elizabeth in the middle of our bed with her favorite toy, my iPad. I sprinted to the kitchen, finished up and patted myself on the back for getting everything ready with 10 minutes to spare! I returned to the bedroom to collect Elizabeth and stopped in my tracks.
Apparently, during the three minutes I was gone she climbed off the bed, got into my makeup drawer, dug out a pink cream stick blush, climbed back on the bed and proceeded to smear it everywhere as if it were a giant crayon. It was all over her face, her clothes, the pillow and worst of all — our bed. Mayday.
Where to start?
First off, I really love that bedding. Even on sale it was a bit of a splurge from Anthropologie, but it matched Granny’s old furniture that Ryan refinished in charcoal grey so perfectly I just had to have it. Plus I know this sounds silly for a quilt, but I felt it was a good mix of Ryan and me. The patchwork and details are sort of my style — and it’s from one of my fav stores – but the colors are definitely Ryan. He’s a blue guy (Duke forever I guess), and the bedding isn’t too girly. It’s important to me that the master bedroom is a reflection of us both, and somehow this one just seemed to fit the bill. I love it.
So you can imagine how thrilled I was to find it covered in thick pink cream. Not to mention it was 10 minutes before we were supposed to be gone with the house in perfect condition. Ugh! I grabbed my pink-faced toddler (who was quite proud of her new look, I must say), and stuck her in her carseat to watch a DVD (anyone else do that trick?) while I contemplated my next move. Didn’t take long to realize there really wasn’t anything I could do, at least in the short term. Rubbing water on it only made it worse so in the end I just left it. I wasn’t optimistic that it would come out later, either.
I told myself there is a chance that whoever viewed the house didn’t notice the pink-surrounded-by-wet spot on the bed. I also reminded myself that it really shouldn’t matter, as we aren’t selling the bedding with the house. Even so, it wasn’t the ideal way to leave the house for a showing.
Soon afterwards, as I was killing time at the park with all three kids and the dog (in 100 degree weather I might add), I called my friend to vent. Candy also has three little kids and had her house on the market last year. She told this story that made me feel much better about my ordeal….
Like me, one afternoon she was rushing around to prepare for a last minute showing. She was almost finished when she noticed one of her twin babies had a dirty diaper, so she did a quick change and ran out the door. Later she returned, went upstairs and gasped. There on the changing table in the nursery was an unmistakable, no doubt about it, poop log. Ahhh!! She realized that in her rush to change the diaper it must have rolled out and she didn’t even notice. Mortifying! Like me, she tried to convince herself that whoever the lucky home viewer was didn’t notice the, uh, present.
Candy’s story made me laugh so hard, partly because of the funny way she told it, and partly because I couldn’t help but picture the realtor and house-hunter’s reactions. I also felt better because Candy is one of the most organized people around, and knowing that even she can have a poop fiasco made me feel that much better about my own chaotic life. Isn’t that what friends are for? She listed to my ranting and ended the conversation with “Well, at least it wasn’t poop.”
So next time you have a bad day, just remind yourself, “At least it wasn’t poop.” That just might do the trick. Unless of course it was poop. Then you’re SOL. Pun intended.
P.S. The makeup came out, thanks to some magic potion Ryan bought. It is a long German name that I can’t remember just now, but if you’re ever in a bind let me know and I’ll track it down for you. It works wonders.
P.P.S. If you’re reading this and your name is Candy please don’t be offended. I really want to be your friend. You’re probably not even a stripper, but if you are it’s fine by me. I could use a stripper friend to teach me a few tricks anyway.