I simply cannot remember. Did I poop yesterday? Or am I constipated? Umm. I was really busy. Every time I had to go, I remember getting interrupted. I think. Or not. Wouldn’t I be extra gassy?
The short path from the kitchen to the bathroom was an endless loop of obstacles. “MOM! She was looking at me!” Or “My neck is dry. I need water. I need water. Mommy. I need water, Mommy!” What was that blob on the wall? A booger? No one confesses.
Midnight arrived. Kids were in bed. Home lunches prepared, kitchen and living room cleaned, paperwork completed and I took advantage of showering with hot water. (Who likes to shower after water hogs?) Brushed my teeth, quickly decided against worrying about tomorrow’s outfit, and sank into bed.
Shit. I forgot to poop.