There comes a time in every mother’s life when she stops in her tracks, deviates from her routine, and acknowledges that said routine is GROSS. Although it may not be very motherly, that time in this mother’s life comes around pretty much every day.
Case in point: Thursday May 24, 2007.
9:35 a.m. My three-year-old son Joshua says those magic words, “Mommy, I need to go potty!†This is music to my ears, since it took about 40 bajillion years to potty train him. So we hustle to the potty and he lays a deuce in the toilet and I am feeling very proud. Until I have to wipe his butt. He’s still not really capable of doing so himself, and it’s a little more complicated than after changing a diaper. So after he goes, I get him down from the potty, get out the old baby wipes, (toilet paper is just not cutting it for this chore) and wipe his little buns clean. Then I go wash my hands in the hottest water I can stand with my anti-bacterial Bath & Body Works soap. Yummy!
12:05 p.m. My son and I are just sitting down to lunch. He is dining on corn dog and apples, and my fine cuisine consists of bean soup and apples. Decadent, I know. I put my 6-month-old daughter Sophia in her chair at the table and give her some toys. But before I can take a bite of my lunch, she starts squealing and fussing. So I go to pick her up and she is COVERED in yellow poop. It’s all over the front (yes I said the FRONT) of her pretty purple outfit. I run her to the changing table to discover she has somehow pooped out the front of her diaper. It’s all over her stomach, all over the diaper tabs, and get this, POOLED in her bellybutton. Yes, POOLED. She has quite the “inny†and it was a wading pool of poop. A poop pool, if you will. Since there was poop ALL over her stomach, she immediately got both of her hands in it. I grabbed the baby wipes and frantically held one hand while wiping the other, then switched…next thing I know she has a hand and a foot in her mouth and I’m praying that a) I got all the poop off her hand and b) there was no poop on her foot to start with. Now that her hands are clean, I move on to the poopy stomach and belly button. I practically have to suction the poop our of her belly button. Then, and only then, am I actually able to take the diaper off and get started cleaning the normally affected area! BUT after I do that and pick her up by putting my thumbs under her armpits, I discover that there is also poop in her armpits! (And incidentally on my thumb!) So, I get her pits cleaned out and THEN I get her new clothes and rinse out her poopy ones, and finally sit down to lunch about 12:30. But my bean soup is not so appetizing anymore.
1:15 p.m. The kids and I are on the way home from the post office, and I’m feeling a little stressed so I decide to hit Tim Horton’s for an iced coffee. Caffeine + Sugar = Mommy Stress Relief!! We are about 2 blocks away when I notice in the rearview mirror that Joshua has his hand on his throat. “Honey, does your throat hurt?†I ask. Joshua, who NEVER admits to sickness for fear of going to the doctor, says, “Yes. I feel sick.†He then proceeds to cough and then PUKE all over the backseat of my car. It was the puke to end all pukes. I mean, this thing had like five different surges. Just when I thought he was done, he’s start spewing again! Poor kid! The smell of rotted milk quickly filled the car and I hightailed it past Tim Horton’s (oh, I’ll miss you Iced Coffee!) and headed for home. Joshua’s clothes were so covered in lovely little bits of apple, corn dog, and cheese crackers that I stripped him on the front porch and left his clothes there. After carefully getting my daughter out of the car so as not to get any puke on her, (I had some on my hands and arms after removing Joshua’s clothes) I put Joshua straight in to the bath tub. Then I put the baby to bed and after Joshua was scrubbed clean, he and I went back outside to tackle the car. When I look in the backseat I wish I had a HAZMAT suit. Or at least some latex gloves! But I don’t. So I dive in anyway. After delicately removing his car seat (which I hosed down, before removing the covers and putting them with the vomit-covered clothes into the washing machine), I discovered that there were POOLS of puke in the crevices between the back and bottom of the seats. POOLS. Puke Pools. IT….WAS…GROSS! So gross that I nearly added some chunder to the volume already coagulating in my leather seats. After about 30 minutes of Fantastick, paper towels, and Febreze, the car finally seemed back to normal, with the exception of the seatbelt, which was rather saturated. I leave it to my husband to work his magic on that, cause I have done all I can do for it, and it is still stinky. Joshua and I head into the house.
2:25 p.m. My daughter wakes up from her nap. She’s pooped again, but this time it’s all in her diaper. I count my lucky stars, change her, and go downstairs and put on a pot of coffee. If I want a cold one today, I’m going to have to make it myself!
4:35 p.m. Both of the kids are down for a late nap. I have taken an abrasive yet refreshing chemical shower, and now, with iced coffee in hand, am feeling somewhat human.
9:30 p.m. The kids are in bed and things have calmed down. Joshua still has a fever, but no more pukes! Who knows, if things stay quiet, I may even have time to run to the HAZMAT store and get a full body suit to protect me against tomorrow’s adventures. After all, if there’s anything I learned from today, it’s to count on “GROSS†being a part of the routine – at least for the foreseeable future!
