There’s poop and a full-ride scholarship under my porch.

There’s poop under my front porch, and it’s not from an animal, folks.

I know; it’s tacky to write a mommy blog and be all Braggity McBragpants about my kids, but there’s a season for everything, and it’s time to brag.

There’s poop under my front porch, and more than one of my kids manufactured it and put it there.

I’m sure that’s so because I have a witness. Or a tattler. It depends on how you look at it, really. I prefer to call them spies and treat them like essential members of my staff, paying them off in secret for getting me the dirt. Look. I’m not proud of it; I just honestly don’t think I can parent this many kids without a well-run network of informants. Don’t judge.

“MOM!” Aden said, running into the kitchen after playing outside. “Cai and Cael POOPED under the front porch.”

Well, crap.

I asked my 5-year-old boys to confirm.

“So. Boys. Tell me. Did you poop under the front porch?”

“YES!” Cai said enthusiastically.

Ah ha! A witness and a confession.

“I fink I don’t want to say,” Cael said suspiciously.

Make that a witness, a confession, and a kid who knows his rights. That’s OK; I’ve done more with less.

I asked Cai to explain. “Explain,” I said. “Explain, if you please, why it made sense to you to take a dump under the front porch.”

Cai heard no sarcasm in my voice since he suffers from acute sarcasm deafness, so he looked at me with sparkles in his eyes and yelled, “DUNGEON!” while Cael tried in vain to shush him.


Of course. Should’ve known.

My boys were playing Dungeon, and not just Any Dungeon. No no; my babies were playing Historically Accurate Dungeon, which is the kind of Dungeon where one lounges around in one’s own waste, and which I think we can all agree is the Most Superior of all the Dungeons to play. I mean, think of the less creative kids out there playing Clean Dungeon. It’s sad really.

I think it’s safe to assume at this point that my boys are essentially guaranteed full-ride history scholarships to our local university. Which, given the $82.76 in their college saving funds, is a real relief.

Also, that poop under my front porch? It’s the perfect addition for fall decorating, friends! Now, instead of decorating with just the sun, moon and flatulence, we can add a wholly realistic Dungeon for Halloween.


Parenting, you guys. It’s all a matter of perspective.


P.S. Thank you for all your sage advice on dealing with the poop situation. And, um, sorry I’m such a bad advice-taker.


ABOUT BETH WOOLSEY I'm a writer. And a mess. And mouthy, brave, and strong. I believe we all belong to each other. I believe in the long way 'round. And I believe, always, in grace in the grime and wonder in the wild of a life lived off course from what was, once, a perfectly good plan.
  1. […] are all feral, and we keep them. One of them peed on the inside garage walls. Several kept a poop collection under the front porch. God knows, we’ve cleaned urine and feces off nearly EVERY surface and textile in this house, […]

  2. […] Neither for decorating our rooms, nor for wadding up to have a giant snowball fight. Neither for hiding under the front porch so we can take a dump without coming all the way inside, nor for wiping up the gallon of red sugar-free fake juice product we spilled on the […]

  3. […] but is not limited to the toy box, behind the beds, in the air vents, on the garage walls, and under the front porch – they have never, to my knowledge, chewed on a used tampon. Kids for the […]

  4. We all used a very high neck simply because the girl would have to be shut down inside. The woman has also been anathema for the surroundings, arriving within this reddish soil louis vuitton baby bag inside a lot of incorrect clothing: a lotion top.

  5. […] the fact that you accept the Both/And life. Both the silly and the sacred. Both the magic and the mess. I love that you are people of all faiths and all backgrounds. I love that you are moms and dads […]

  6. Dear Beth,

    Things that are not fair:

    1) Lisa McMinn linking to your blog…
    3) For her husband’s class.
    4) *And by “a” paper I may mean “three”.
    5) And that doesn’t include Kathleen Gathercoal’s class.
    6) Thanks for being addictive…
    7) NOT.

    What’s the point of not having a facebook if you have hilarious bloggers in your town? WHO YOUR PROFFESORS LINK TO?! Mark probably put her up to that as a test to see if we’re distractable pre-psychologists or not.

  7. […] celebrates when her kids poop under the porch because in some strange way it makes them historians. I don’t know, just read her piece. She […]

  8. LOVE IT!!
    Let me start off by saying I am a mother of all boys (3) and when I read your post I had to smile. When my middle son was about 3 or 4 he pooped in my front yard and was actually proud of the fact that he had done this “just like the dogs”!! Needless to say we all still laugh about this escapade years later!!
    I love the dungeon story. Hang in there I have to agree on the “spies” that you have, it never hurts to know what is going on when you are not within ear or eye shot.

    By the way we did clean up the poop “just like the dogs”

  9. HILARIOUS!!! Boys never cease to amaze me! Dungeon?! HAHAHA!

  10. This is so fantastic. Makes be both so glad and SO SAD I don’t have kids. The repulsive miracle of Historically Accurate Dungeon seems pretty substantial to me.

  11. Awesome. Needed this one tonight. Can’t wait to start following!

  12. Staggered over from Crappy Pictures. Can’t wait to show this post to my husband. Hilarious. I have three (3) children and am totally overwhelmed. I have friends who have 8 and 9. I don’t know how any of y’all do it. Why didn’t the informant stop them? Did I mention; I myself am an only child?

    1. Hehe. This makes me laugh, Maggie. The informant probably didn’t want to get in the way of the poop trajectory. I’m guessing. My kids don’t often stop each other from doing stuff… I think they know the limits of their power. 😉

      P.S. I’m totally overwhelmed, too. But I was overwhelmed with one kid when I had my first. I suspect that being a parent of any kids includes the feeling of overwhelmedness.

      1. Just had to throw my 2 cents in here on they “why didn’t the informant stop them?” Question.

        Here’s the deal: An informant is just that… an informant. If they stop them, they’d have nothing to report on, and this just breaks apart their self esteem and pride.

        There is a fine line in the information business. Basically a kid has two choices:

        1. Stop the bad behavior, look like a heron when kid #2 escapes trouble, and then use it against them later (“remember that time I didn’t let you poop under the porch? Payback time”


        2. Let the behavior go on and bask in the glory of all that is good when #2 (or in your case #’s 4 and 5) is getting reamed for said bad behavior…

        Bottom Line: The informant likes to see the other kid(s) get in trouble. It is funny… freaking funny!

  13. Why do all the best parenting stories involve poop? 😉 Seriously, I think the best story I have from when my little one was just a few weeks old was when she managed to poop on daddy. 😛

    1. My husband’s very first night as a Daddy included being liberally christened with meconium all over his pajamas……

  14. Love this!! Sounds exactly like my boys! I’m a mom of 5, as well (10, 5, 4, 20 month twins)…and unless you have 5 kids…you just don’t know what you’re missing. 😉

    Can’t wait to read more!

    1. Bahahaha! You did #’s 4 and 5 as twins, too! Isn’t it RAD? And YOU will know I’m actually not even kidding when I say that.

  15. As I have toddler twin boys myself, I just had a glimpse into my future. Wondering now which of my boys will “lawyer up”. Am thanking all that is holy that we do not have a porch. Whew.

    1. Heh heh. LOVE this, Michele. Especially the “whew.” Twin boys are THE BEST (truly), and also… well, good luck. 😉

  16. HAHAHA!! This blog always cracks me up!! Absolute hilarity!!

  17. Hysterically funny and beautifully expressed. Love it! xo

  18. I sincerely hope that your book includes at least an entire section on bodily functions, because I think I’m secretly a 5 year old, or maybe I find this extremely educational.

    1. At this point, they’re more a generous sprinkling throughout. I’m not sure anyone (especially the writer) can take reading them all together. It’s not a horror novel, after all. 😉

      (P.S. Thank you, Heather.)

  19. Ha ha ha! I love your kids. And I love you for sharing them with all of us. Thanks for the laugh on a day I woke up to SNOW. I needed it. The laugh, not the snow. 🙂

    1. Thanks, Nita. Say hello to the snow for us.

  20. Inasmuch as “Don’t crap in your own messkit” is a pet Marine Corps aphorism, I can assure you (and the public at large) that these scatological excursions originate ENTIRELY in the boys paternal genome.

    1. Oh no, you don’t! You’re not pinning this one on us!

      1. Just employing another USMC inspired tactic: “The best defense is a good offense.” ;>)

        1. “Scatalogical excursions” is my new favourite phrase, and I am going to do everything in my power to insert it into a sentence today 😀

        2. I don’t even…

          I just…

          Yep. No idea what to say. Except that if many of my childhood vacations *weren’t* scatalogical excursions, then I missed the point.

  21. Thanks for making me spew coffee all over my keyboard from laughing…:)

    1. The pleasure’s all mine. 😉

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