Sometime I would love to see what my some parts of my life look like in fast forward and put to circus music.
Like the other day. The poop incident.
Sam was sleeping. (This one was ALL the little guy. And even though his poop is a lot more "innocent" I guess, it's still stinky. And slimy. And shockingly similar to a condiment I put on hot dogs.) I was holding Jack in a sitting position against me, with my nursing pillow on my lap, watching "Teen Mom" with him. He likes that show. Then... I got a whiff. I thought it weird, seeing as the odour wasn't following up his usual session of grunting and carrying on. I picked him up to smell his bum (one of those things you might say you'll never do as a parent, but always end up doing) but didn't even need to get it near my face. There was poop. Every. Where.
On my hoodie. On my shirt underneath my hoodie. On my jeans. On the nursing pillow. Dripping down onto the couch under me. And ALL over poor little Jack.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and gathered my faculties. I carefully put the pillow on the floor, poop side up, and raced to the bathroom. I layed some cloths under his poopy back, and strapped him onto the change table (with straps that I had just installed days ago - it's almost like I knew it was coming). I promptly went to change my own clothes, so as not to transfer more poop onto Jack, and went back to deal with the mess.
(I just need to insert here how insanely difficult it is to clean up a poopy child without contaminating any of the clean stuff. You have no idea how many times I have spread the feces onto the clean diaper, the clean clothes, the clean kid, the clean mom, the clean floor even. Yikes.)
The clean-up process was pretty uneventful. Then, I went to go lay Jack in the living room while I ran downstairs to get him new pants (his shirt had remained miraculously doody-free), and as I walked past our open front door, just about had a feces incident of my own when I saw a man standing there. Just my brother. We're okay.
He had stopped by to drop something off, and stayed at the doorway for a bit to visit. I got Jack, and he held him while we chatted. He said he had to go, and I explained that I had to tend to some poop clean-up. He paused, and said, "Yeah, I think he still has some on his foot." Sure enough, his little foot was yellow-tinged. I cleaned up his foot, and by this time, Sam had gotten up from his nap. I got Jack's pants on, and then went to tend to the poopy pillow cover.
After (I thought) it had all been cleaned up, I went back and sat on the couch with Sam to watch a movie for a few minutes before supper. I looked over at him, and WHAT?! He had Jack's poop ALL over the side of his foot. Oh dear. He must've rubbed up against the dirty pillow while I was getting Jack dressed. I got up to de-poop yet another of my offspring, and checked the couch for any poop that Sam might have spread. We were good. Except for the smear on the couch from before, that I hadn't cleaned up with all the distraction. Yup. Had poop all over my second pair of pants.
There are days like this when there is just TOO MUCH POOP, too many places.
It's a good thing those kids are darn cute.