So I published my first blog post ever, and then immediately thought “Oh, dear. That’s not good enough.” I feel like I instantly need to follow up with a legitimate post, so that last one isn’t floundering out there all by it’s lonesome. Quick! Post something else!!!
Thinking fast, I went back through my old facebook posts to a story that got a bit long-winded on my own timeline, and hit the good ole ‘copy and paste’ button.
This is that story. Granted, it’s heavily edited to add more richness and detail (knowing the subject matter, I’m giggling as I’m typing this*), and even if you remember reading this before, I think you’ll enjoy it. It’s not a typical day, but one of the hazards of my job. *That was a poop joke by the way… This is my humor, kids…
Bet you didn’t have a morning like this…
So the four little ones show up this morning, and the first item of business is clearly to change the two year old’s stinky diaper. Woof!
Good Monday morning!
So I situate the 10 month old and my own 3 month baby (Lord, this was a while ago! Time flies, my friends, fun or not), and grab the boy.
I lay him down on the floor and gather all the accoutrements of diapering. He thinks he’s funny by scootching away from me while laying down so that he’s about a yard away from where he actually needs to be in front of me. I grab his foot and pull him closer, which is great fun, till I realize something.
As I lift up his legs to get his pants off, I notice the poop goes up his back…and just keeps going! (Insert theme from ‘Psycho’ here). While pulling him closer to me, I successfully squished the poop out of his diaper and smeared it across my carpet, just like the world’s most disgusting tube of toothpaste.
I call in the 6 and 4 year olds, tell them to occupy the babies, who are now both crying and both in need of their morning naps. Of course. But now I have a two year old covered in poop, and a floor that’s unmentionable. I strip the boy, throw his clothes in the wash along with clothes dirty from yard work, and start the washer, filling it with twice as much laundry detergent as usual.
The babies are still screaming, despite the big-uns trying their best to clown around in front of them (well, the four year old gave up on her little sister fairly quickly and just decided to “help me” in other ways… those ways being just following me around asking “Can I help?” “What are you doing?”) Meanwhile I’m trying to move as fast as possible, so washcloth! Water! Hose the boy down! Then rinse the tub as best I can and fill it with bubbles to he can play and get actually clean and disinfected… as much as a little boy can. By now the babies are desperate for adult attention, the 6 year old is trying her best, and the 4 year old has totally lost interest, telling me repeatedly that she forgot to eat breakfast (?? But it was summer at the time), and wants me to make her some ‘wemumade’ (lemonade).
In the meantime, poop is still smeared on the carpet. I spray it with dog spot cleaner (with enzymes so he doesn’t do it again, ha!), and do my best to scrub it up. Mostly I just get up the crud and soak it so the stain doesn’t set. The 10 monther gets a snuggle and a blankie and its off to bed with her. I try to put mine down, but he keeps getting interrupted by the rest of the gang giving me updates and stories about the boy in the tub. “Yes, yes, I’ll get to you in a minute, thank you, now GO AWAY!”
So I put him down, drag 2-year out of the tub (He thought this whole thing was great fun, so at least someone got some enjoyment out of the fiasco), and put a pair of extra 2t pants on him that my Grandma just happened to get me (thanks Grandma!). Then I try again with mine, nursing and rocking him quietly.
Success! He fell asleep, and I don’t hear the nearly-toddler squawking in her own crib. Now for Cheerios for 2, 4, and 6 (you can’t feed just one) and making lemonade. Check and check.
I think I’m done now, right?
Whew. That mess is over. Now I can take a breath. So I make myself a cup of tea. You know, as a reward. I deserved it. But just as I sit down, mine wakes up. Of course. Oh well.
I’ve sent the big kids off to play, since their second breakfast lasted a grand total of ten minutes, feed my boy with the power OF MY OWN BODY, sip my tea, and write this post.
Like a boss.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was my poopy day. There haven’t been too many more like it in terms of ew-factor, but stay tuned! I hope to have a post up maybe every other day, and at the LEAST twice a week. Hopefully my next post will be something along the lines of how to help out the kid who is just learning her math facts… or maybe the nuances of freezer meals and how to make some… or perhaps how funny it is to watch a 1 year old and a 7 month old try and play together.
Either way, I’m going to feel much better after I hit the ‘publish’ button again. That poor introductory post won’t be by itself much longer!