The Mess

The other day one of my favorite tiny humans had a poop incident.

As I was cleaning him up I managed to get most of the poop into the toilet.  Somehow though, between me and my tiny poopy friend, we managed to get poop on quite a few other bathroom surfaces too.

The rug?  Got poop on that.
The outside of the trash can?  Got poop on that.
The sink?  Got poop on that too.

And while I recognize the tiny humans are pretty messy at baseline and that I myself am no stranger to mess, this was a pretty impressive mess even for us.

So, tiny poopy friend and I paused and took a moment to contemplate the impressively disgusting mess we had made, with the thought of maybe if we stopped moving we could stop spreading the poop.

As we stood there and contemplated the grossness my tiny poopy friend cracked a joke.  I don't remember exactly what he said, but I know it was funny.  So we stood there and giggled.  And we kept giggling while we cleaned up.

Later, I couldn't help but think about what a wonderful human my tiny poopy friend is.  There he was, feeling sick and covered in poop, still cracking jokes, still willing to giggle.

The more I thought about this small moment of comedy the more it seemed important to me.

Life is messy and you gotta be able to laugh at the mess.

Sometimes I think we cut ourselves off from things that might be a little be too hard, too gross, too complicated, too messy.  But in the long run by doing that- by always coloring inside the lines*, by never making waves*, by never thinking outside the box*- we're doing ourselves a disservice.

The biggest, best, and scariest parts of life are often literally messy.

Think about it.

Birth?  Totally gross.

Sex?  Pretty messy.

Death?  Messy in every possible way.


And I know that the messy parts of life are big and complicated and often terrifying.  But they can be funny and wonderful and exhilarating too.  And if you want those amazing parts you're going to have to embrace the mess, because the mess is your life.


*Maybe we have to many cliches for conformity because the alternatives scare us too much?


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