Yesterday morning, I woke up before the baby did, which never happens since the first tweet of a bird outside snaps his eyes awake and he's ready for the day. But yesterday was different. Since I was up and had the house to myself, I decided to indulge in a long, steamy hot shower. I mean, I took one of those showers that is almost to hot to bear but the heat feels so good, kind of showers. I was ecstatic! I was alone in the bathroom: no husband talking, no baby being needy, no aspie reciting the latest version of Charlie Brown's Valentine's Special. It was perfect. I finished up, draining the hot water tank and headed downstairs to make my morning cup of coffee. Things were quiet so I assumed the kids were still asleep.
Before I got my first sip of coffee down, I heard the pitter-patter of little feet and the mumble of mommie that I love so much. Still being in my joyful mood from my awesome alone time, I swing around about to sing my good morning song, when I smelt and saw it. There was poop on my baby's foot, leg, hands and face. He was showing me with a, hey do something about this face. What in the world I'm thinking. He still has his PJ's on, how did he get all this poop on him.
I was just about to pick him up with my 4 year old came into the kitchen as well. Mom, I pooped and the baby walked in it. Well, at least that mystery is solved. As I look at my oldest, he too had poop down his legs and on his ankles. What happened, Buddy? I pooped my pants and took them off in the bedroom and then Charlie grabbed them and then the baby walked in it. Great, as I imagine the poop scene that's waiting for me upstairs to clean up. I picked up the baby, and started towards the tub with the kids. But on the way, I started to see the true depth of the poop crime scene. There were poop foot prints from every step the baby took on his way down to get me. Apparently, the ordeal was not to much of an emergency, however, since he stopped to play with his Thomas train, which was evident from the poop prints on the train. As I headed upstairs, I went to grab the banister and wince to the smooshy feeling on my fingers. Yup, poop. My little one holds the banister every time he comes down the stairs and therefore, there was poop smeared the whole way down it as well. Okay, I will just breathe and clean. No problem I think to myself.
When I got upstairs, there was Charlie looking oh so cute, which meant that he had done something bad. I put the baby and his big brother in the tub, started the water, then went to see what Charlie had done. I had just walked into my oldest bedroom, when the kids started to scream. What in the world, I just walked out for two seconds, what could be the problem. I went running back in to them shivering and saying, "it's cold, it's cold." Oh crap! I drained the hot water tank! We have no hot water! You have got to be kidding me! So, I hurried up drained the water, and sat there stumped. What in the hell am I going to do? The kids are shivering, there is no hot water, and there is poop covering 80% of my house. Should, I grab the kids, leave and set the house on fire? That was quite a realistic possibility at one point of time in my mind yesterday, but as I calmed down, I decided upon something else. Wet wipes. I started cleaning the poor babies up with wet wipes. A container later, they were passable to get to a point to play in the bathroom and not get poop everywhere while we wait for hot water.
I escaped from the bathroom after the last wet wiped was used, to see what it truly looked like in my son's room. There was a torn up diaper on the floor, with a million little poop covered pellets that are inside the diaper scattered everywhere. There was a major poop trail near the diaper. I started looking at them a little closer and noticed it was not just toddler tracks I was looking at. Nope, there were dog tracks in it too. You have got to be kidding. Charlie! I scream, and I went looking for him. Sure enough, like a well train detective I followed tracks to under our bed to find a brown and black little butt sticking out. As I drug him out, I could smell the poop and knew that he would be getting a tubby too. So, into the bathroom he went.
Half hour later, we finally had hot water and so I could produce two clean kids and a clean puppy. Next step, to start on the house. I set up a movie to play to entertain the kids, and gave my carpet cleaner a workout that I think it never had before. I honestly don't know how long it took me to clean it up, but it was a while. The whole time I kept thinking to myself, how could one kid produce this much poop. Does this kind of thing happen to other people? It can't. This is insane. Are you kidding me with this poop! And on and on.
Once the place was decontaminated, I had showered yet again, I went downstairs again to finally drink my now cold coffee. Just then, my husband calls and says, what are you doing today honey? Eating bon-bons and watching tv with your cushy stay at home job. He says jokingly. He is lucky he works far enough away, because at that moment if he were closer I would have driven there ripped his head off and jumped up and down on it. Instead, I just laugh and say, oh just the usual honey. We are just having our usual morning. I couldn't relive the poopy horror I just lived through and thought to myself, he'll read it in my next blog. Tonight, I desire a good margarita!
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