We had quite an interesting morning a couple of days ago-- not for the faint of heart or weak-stomached. You've been warned.
The morning started off like any other... Lexy up around 7:30, off to watch "Monkey" (Curious George), as I trailed behind. Around 8:45, I heard the cries of Tori signaling she was awake. As I neared her door, I could already smell it.
"Oh no! She's got diarrhea," I thought.
I opened the door and turned the light on slowly to find a sight no mother ever wants to see. Although not diarrhea, I think it was worse: Tori, standing diaper-less, COVERED in her own poop. She had it in her hair, she had it mashed on her body, she had it CAKED on her hands (and under her too-long fingernails that were in desperate need of a trim). It was all over her feet, and smeared on every blanket and Teddy bear in her crib. And then there was the actual poop, sitting there innocently in her bed. And the thousand-and-one little crumbles ALL OVER THE SHEETS.
I immediately picked her up and held her at arms distance. She was crying hysterically, and I soon realized why. As she handed me her pacifiers, I noticed that THEY, TOO, were covered in poop. And, (retching as I write this) there seems to be clear evidence that said pacifiers had been in her mouth. GAG. More on that later.
I rushed her to the bathtub and began dousing her with water. Her tears continued streaming down her face and I threw water at every orifice. Poor thing was probably thinking, "What did I do to deserve this?"
All the while, curious Lexy is peeking her head in to see what all the commotion is about. I yelled "DON'T! TOUCH! ANYTHING!, Lexy. There's poop on everything." Words I would come to regret using as I heard them repeated to me ALL DAY LONG. ("I can't pick up my toys, Mom, there's poop on them!")
I got Tori all cleaned up, trimmed her fingernails immediately, dressed her and then decided to tackled the war zone called her bed. EVERYTHING-- despite tags warning otherwise-- became WASHABLE in that moment. And Clorox bleach became my new best friend.
The worst of the worst was discovered several hours later when I went to retrieve the pacifiers soaking in straight bleach. Three out of 4 of them had come clean, but one seemed to still have poop on the nipple part... STRANGE, I thought. And that's when I realized that the poop was INSIDE the nipple.
Yes, it's verified. My daughter ATE HER OWN POOP.
I guess I would be crying hysterically, too.
And thanks to this blog, the only thought running through my head as I meticulously cleaned was, "This is going to make an awesome post."
In the day and a half I've had to process this, I've come up with 100 titles to this post. My initial thought was something along the lines of "Just when you think you've got this motherhood thing figured out..."
or
"And then came the second child..."
Lexy never had any poop escapades. I've heard other friends describe their own horrific encounters with excrement, but I thought I had successfully avoided it with child #1, so child #2 would be a cinch. HA.
And I guess that this all just goes to show me that every kid is different. And that I don't have this motherhood thing all wrapped up yet. And I should NEVER, EVER put Tori to bed with easy access to her diaper. :)
Never mind the fact that the shoes rarely match.... (at least she picked a right one and a left one!)
Over-exposed I know, but it catches her so "in the moment" of her purse play. And a Lady can never have too many bags (notice the other bag at arm's reach just-in-case...)!
