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Poop Scoop

As parents, we hear horrendous stories about absurd, crazy, and disgusting things babies and little tykes do.  And we think to ourselves, “that won’t EVER happen to MY child.  I’m much more aware, and I’ll handle any crazy thing that comes my way.”  Well, if you think that, you’re better off dealing with reality than disappointment.  So, might as well pony up to the poop because one day, you will have one heckuva poop story to tell.  This one just happens to be mine.

Calvin woke up early from his morning nap.  When I found him, I was greeted with an unexpected surprise.

POOP. EV-E-RY-where.

Smeared on his hair, face, entire body, all his blankets, the entire pack ‘n play, plush toys . . . EVERYTHING was covered in __IT.

He’d managed to pull off his diaper, and there he sat, naked as a jaybird  grinning up at me knowing full well what he’d done.  Because, my boy-in-potty-training just doesn’t like the sensation of sitting in his own mire.  But, I guess it’s okay to have it smeared all over his body.  THAT doesn’t seem to bother him one bit.  I was torn between laughing/crying/and throwing my hands in the air in utter desperation.  I did some quasi-combination of all three.

I felt like the universe was askew and imploding at that very moment within the space-time continuum, and somehow I had to keep talking to my mom on the phone (because she was from out of town and kept getting lost driving to my apartment), get Calvin and his bed clean, and then open the door for my mom in this crazy electronic-key/self locking door apartment so we could meet for lunch before she got on the road for her 8 hour drive home.

Please, Lord.  Did the poop have to hit the fan quite so literally?

My mom was stressed out because she is navigationally challenged.  While I held poop-covered boy, she was parked across the courtyard in the parking garage.  I had to “signal” her with my window blinds so she could lock on to where my apartment was relative to her location.  I couldn’t very well take my filthy, naked boy out in the lobby to walk her back to the apartment, so I had to guide her through an apartment hallway maze through the phone.

Meanwhile, I put Calvin on the floor (yes, I put the baby with the dried poop on his body on a carpeted floor), so I could start filling up the bathtub and I began to wipe down the NASTY pack ‘n play with a non-toxic, all purpose cleaner.  I also washed all of his pack ‘n play bedding and plush toys.

By the time my mom was utterly confused walking down the hallway, I went out there to greet her.  She came inside and I showed her exactly why I couldn’t walk to her vehicle to meet her.  My mom took one look at Calvin, one look at his bed, and just laughed.

Then, I plunked him in the tub and he started laughing, splashing, and kicking.  My mom said he made such a mess because he wanted the opportunity to play in the tub and get clean.  Yes.  I seriously wouldn’t put it past him.

After his decontamination, I got him diapered and dressed, and handed him to my mom for playtime and supervision so I could decontaminate EVERYTHING else that was poop covered.

Somehow, I managed to clean the pack ‘n play, get a load of laundry started, and got us out the door for lunch so that my mom didn’t have to have such a late start for her long drive back to New York.

I retold the tale of the poop monster when Steve came home from work.

Steve: [2 minutes of laughter] Did you grab the camera?

Me: Are you kidding me?  Our son was naked, sitting in his own filth, and you thought I should grab the camera?

Steve: [more laughter] Well, obviously he doesn’t like sitting in his own poop.

Me: Obviously.

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2 Responses

  1. Well it could’ve been worse! lol He could’ve eaten it too.
    I’m glad you guys are doing well!

  2. Ugh, welcome to motherhood eh? that was one of those “MY kids will NEVER do that” things in my mind. & my first absolutely did. to the point I had to create a straight-jacket-esq. sleep system for naptime so he had no possible access to his diaper. Knock wood my second has never done it (thankfully she doesn’t poop in her diaper at naptime).

    joy.

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