Wednesday, May 1, 2013

The Power of Poop

Today was one of those days.
It was crappy.
Pun intended.

Nobody knows the power of poop like Dr. Oz a mother.

When I was married, and prissy was a baby, nothing brought me more laugh-until-I-couldn't-breathe joy than one time when she had a nasty blow out.. while my husband was holding her.. without a shirt on. I'm telling you, I almost died. DIED! Or the home video I have of him changing one particularly potent diaper with gloves on, and a shirt tied over his head, and STILL making gagging noises. *sigh* I can almost feel a laugh creeping in my belly just thinking about those moments.

(I'm sure I laughed at other times during our marriage... but nothing comes to mind right now)
(But this post isn't about him... except that maybe I wish he had her this morning. You'll see why in a minute...)

Today was a particularly poop powered day though. The high and low of my day? Poop!

This morning, my toddler got quiet... you guys... did you read that? MY TODDLER... GOT... QUIET. I mean, what a rookie mistake. I should know better. But to be honest with you, she has been on it lately so when she finally peeled herself off of my leg and wandered into her room, I was too busy chugging my coffee that was already getting cold to give her a second thought. So I finished my coffee, and decided I was too peaceful. Mind you, it was probably only 5 minutes, tops, but lately, 5 minutes without her is unnatural. So a toddler hunting I went. What did I find? Well let me tell you... I found my toddler. naked. trying to "clean" up her accident. And what do I mean by "clean up her accident" you ask? Well, best I can tell, she pooped her pants, took them off, and some fell on the floor. She tried to pick it up. It got on her hand. She tried to wipe it off. It got on her chair. She tried to clean it up... You get the idea. I immediately want to throw up. Then die. Or maybe just move away. At the very least, this end of the house must be burnt. To. The. Ground.

I clean her up and through my gagging, I realize something very important... her panties. Where are her panties? Where. The HELL. Are her panties? shit. shit shit shit. I immediately start tearing up the room looking for these hidden poopy panties frantically screaming "get your panties, Aubrey! For the love of God, why are you just standing there? Quit laughing. It's not funny. IT'S NOT FREAKING FUNNY! Where are they?" Finally, convinced she is intentionally leading me astray, I throw her in the tub. Because, let's be honest.. 1- no amount of baby wipes were getting her clean enough to kiss. She needed to soak in a bubbly bath. 2- I can't think of anything else that will keep her in 1 place long enough for me to find these damn panties. 3- If history repeats itself, the tub would be the easiest to clean. My only other option was putting her in one of the dog's pens outside. And I wasn't quite that hysterical yet.

While I'm looking, she is screaming "da! daaaa! dada!" over and over. So finally, I say "what... do... you... want..." and she signs for a snack. Are you kidding me? A snack? You want a snack? We have a pair of poopy panties on the loose, mama is almost in tears, and you want a snack? And you want ME to deliver that snack to you in the bathtub no less? Kid... you have some nerve.

So I call my sister, who has a sweet cuddly immobile baby. She needs to be warned. While I'm on the phone with her, I find the panties. IN THE DIRTY CLOTHES BASKET. My sister, obviously oblivious to what her future holds, thinks this is hilarious and my kid is a genius that should be rewarded for cleaning AND doing laundry.

Then this happened. 12 hours after poopageddon started our day, this happened. My big girl POOPED IN THE POTTY! We have been mostly potty trained for a year. Recently, we even cut out the pull-up's at night and nap time. But pooping has been a process. So this is huge! See that little thumbs up? She was SO PROUD of herself. We were jumping up and down, dancing, singing, clapping, the whole 9 yards. 

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