Poo Happens

It’s 2am. About an hour ago we were in the kitchen and Anne’s olfactory kicked in and said “one of the girls pooped”…then started the debate about whether to clean it now or in the morning. I used the “would you want to lay in that all night long?” line. It’s a tough fight. Under Annie Law, you don’t wake the kids ever, for any reason. I tend to be a little more sympathetic…granted however Annie’s method has worked like a dream and I’m thinking about patenting it and writing a book. Anyway…we agreed that it should be changed…then we actually debated over who would do it…we both wanted to. I played the pregnancy card and encouraged her to get her rest and I’d handle the man job.

Now…if you haven’t been in our house, the kitchen is a LONG way from the kid’s rooms. If you can smell something in the kitchen….there’s a problem. And if Anne can smell it, there’s a problem. Her nose typically doesn’t work that well and I’m the one with the blood-hound sense that can tell when something array.

I walked in Tatum’s room and was hit by the heavy fog of stink that hung in the air. I literally fought my way to her crib and there it was. A pit of poo. It looked like someone used her crib for a mud wrestling match. It was everywhere. On her hands, on her clothes, caked to her body, embedded in her blankets.

I know what you’re thinking…”we’ve all been there.” Well….I’ve seen some interesting diapers and I’ve wiped off many a particle from many a place. But this takes the cake. I didn’t even know where to begin.

I grabbed a plastic bin that was nearby and just started throwing things in it. I started with her pants, her blankets and her dolls. Then came the diaper. You can imagine where it went when I unfastened the Velcro. Next I resorted to my hands and using them as a human back-hoe to shovel it from the crib to the crate. I was finally at a point where I needed more hands because I couldn’t shovel, manage Tatum and keep from slinging stuff all over the walls. This is where Annie came in. I’m not one to call for help, but this was a job than needed some extra hands. Maybe more than help, I wanted a witness because this was a site you wouldn’t believe.

Between Anne saying "we have a problem" and me actually changing the diaper was about 30/45 mins. Annie was dead asleep but more than willing to help. She missed the magnitude of just how exciting it was but it was still bad enough. I can just imagine with her heightened senses how much un-fun this process was. We resorted to putting Tatum in the bath tub and raking if off of her in there. It took everything short of a steel brush but we got it off.

A job well done and a marriage partnership better defined. I think the smell will be with me for a week and the memory…a lifetime. I just hope I don’t make messes like that when I’m 90 for others to endure.

The good news is I don’t think she’ll poop for a week. She had to have got it all out of her system.

Night night.