A Surreal Poop-tastrophe!

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That is exactly what PD1 did to me today!  I had put the little terror down for a nap and even though she is potty trained, we are still keeping pull-ups on her only during naps and at night.  I was busy whirling around the house getting ready for the “white-glove test” of the pending visit of the mother-in-law, that I never heard a peep out of PD1’s room. 

After about two hours of doing “housewife” stuff, I headed into wake up both girls.  I did my normal routine in going into PD2’s room first and opening the curtains and then I headed into PD1’s room.  I opened the door and there to my absolute horror was the aftermath of the first and, I hope, last poop-tastrophe Camp Pie Hole will ever experience!   PD1 was sleeping ever so angelic among the carnage and her pants and pull-up flung across the room. Apparently, PD1 forgot to let me know that she needed to go potty and decided to resort to the next best thing.  However, now that she is potty trained she hates the idea of it remaining in her pants so she has figured out to take off her pants and pull up.

To take a bit from my dear blogging friend, the Idiot, there was whaling, gnashing of teeth, hyperventilating, screaming, yelling, crying,  jumping up and down, and head spinning and there I birth of  the hugest cow ever.  I was literally out of my mind of what I was witnessing.  Obviously, PD1 woke up to the weak legged cow standing in her room and jumped up and said, “I went potty everywhere mommy!”  My mind was screaming, “No, sh#% Sherlock!” Yet my mouth said, Let’s get into the shower NOW, and I mean NOW!”  I was so out of my mind I found myself fully clothed in the shower with her scrubbing the filth off of her.  I then dress her, take her down stairs, along with her sister, and head back up schlepping the carpet cleaner, bleach, laundry basket, Clorox Wipes, trash bags, and rubber gloves.

I start to tackle the job. The phone rings and it is my “Aunt Mom” confirming dinner plans for tonight.  This is the first human contact I have had since the realization of the disaster and she had no idea what she just “walked” into. The conversation goes something like this! 

PH:  HELLO!!!! I can’t talk long I am in the middle of a crisis!

AM:  Just confirming that we all are on still for tonight?  What is up?

PH:  I am up to my elbows in f—-ing sh–!  PD1 took her pull-up off during nap and got sh– all over the GD room, toys, bed, carpet!  

AM: (Pause, I could hear her amused smile) Welcome to a another right of passage to motherhood!

PH:  I know that you think this is hilarious! I am NOT amused!  You know how much I hate this type of crap!  This is GD unacceptable Bullsh–!

AM: Pie Hole, it is PD1 being two and a half and yes, this unacceptable behavior and did you address it with her?

PH: Oh, yes I did!  The cow that is still standing here looking at me is proof that my unhappiness with her about this situation was communicated as clear as crystal.

AM:  Good, just calm down and finish doing what you are doing and I will see you soon! Love ya, glad I am not ya!

 

It took me two hours to clean the carnage from the “poop-tastrophe”.  As  I was cleaning I wondered if I was to hard on my first-born.  I wondered if I traumatized her with my total melt down and birth of a cow.  I thought about it and came to the conclusion that it was not as bad as I was making it out to be, until I went to dump the second bucket of water from the steam cleaner, and found the dog hiding in my master bedroom closet.  I then peeked down the stairs and saw both my kids cuddled up under a blanket watching TV VERY quietly hoping that the crazy lady upstairs does not come down. 

 Oh, God, I really screwed them up all three of them!  The guilt was rushing over me and I headed back to the mess I was dealing with.  As I entered the disaster again, all the guilt washed away and I thought, of the Bill Cosby joke, “Kid, I brought you into this world and I can take you out!” 

Later that night after the room was cleaned, the carpet was like new, the toys were disinfected, the bedding was in the wash, and I was drinking a much-needed margarita at my favorite Mexican restaurant, I asked Aunt Mom, if I was totally insane when she called and I am sorry I spewed obscenities the way I did.  She assured me that I was within normal range of emotion and that she did find the whole thing very amusing.  PD1 was sitting next to me coloring and chatting away like nothing ever happened and was fine.  I breathed a sigh of relief that I did not traumatized her completely by my less than shining moment at a parent and that I did not make a complete ass out of myself to my Aunt Mom.   Kids are resilient little buggers and they defiantly make life very surreal and  interesting every day.  Parents, on the other hand, have a lot of growing and stretching to do each and every interesting  and surreal filled day.  

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