Not “my” poopie day as in it’s about my poop; more like CRAP happened today. It just happens that the CRAP is in regards to poop, just not mine- Summit’s. If that CRAP can even be called poop, the liquefied, nasty-fied version that it was.
So poop in the morning from my offspring, poop at the same time from the kiddo I was watching, and then some more poop from my offspring, but this time in the toilet. Dry-retching from the smell in my house. This is not an exaggeration. If you know me you know my overly sensitive sniffer. Perfumed candle lit. Kid picked up, dash out to mother-in-laws house to see her and her sister who is basically also a Grandmother to Summit but never gets to see him in person. He needs to nap. 45 minutes later, curious sounds coming from nap room. Open door. Child standing up in pack-n-play, odd look on face. Swoop him up in fit of overly-oblidginess to child even though he needs to nap. Dampness on body, wetness. What the-! Hold Summit away from body gasping in horror! NO DIAPER on! What is this all over him? (expletive) it’s POOP! in his hair, in his ears, around his mouth, caked on his hands and arms, body, legs, squishing out of shoes and socks… I shut down. mother-in-law heroically takes him down the hall into bathroom. I stand in shock, mid-section, arm, neck and pants covered in nastiness. I finally trail after them, mute, staring as mother-in-law strips child. Poop on the counter top. Then poop in the bathtub, floating chunks. Child is very happy at unexpected bath! Splashing gloriously oblivious. Poop on the counter top. Socks, shoes, MY shirt, MY pants all thrown in nearby washer. I stand mute, in mother-in-laws sweat pants as she bathes child. I must do something. I must clean the pack-n-play. Get paper towels. Go back and look at disaster zone. Go back and get more paper towels. Realize need mop.
Poop in mesh, poop on hand-made quilt, poop in the tiny threads in the quilting of mattress. Lift up mattress. Of course, Lake Poo residing underneath. Gagging into hand, no the other hand, the hand without poop on it. Find clean, un-soiled, like new diaper in corner. What the-! Child is now clean, happy and curly haired damp from the bath. Proud to have escaped from horror of nap-dom, eating snacks. My hands are dry from washing them dozens of times. Pack-in-lay bathing in the sun, the cleaners evaporating.
oh but thats not all…
Cranky, crying baby at dinner Why? Took to bathroom recently and nothing. We all start to eat dinner, the table is full. OK. Mother-in-law picks him up, “what’s wrong?” I see diaper wedgie, and say so, “can you fix it?” and she puts a finger around the edge and yes, you can see where this is going, her finger came back covered in poo. She stands up, then we notice the wet, brown stain covering the leg he’d been sitting on. Yes, more poo! Poo, glorious, poo! Get child cleaned up AGAIN, clothes are finally dry, dress him, politely thank everyone and go home mortified and disgusted.
This morning, guess what I had waiting for me?