Today started with some seriously devoted time to dishes.
It gets pretty darn hot while I do dishes.
The girls were being super whiny while I cleaned, as usual, so I had them color a picture about the Frog Prince story we read yesterday.
Brooklyn’s picture on the left, Sierra’s on the right.
Payson was also whiny while I cleaned so I tossed him a granola bar.
Later in the day we went to McDonald’s. Because… I was getting major cabin fever and it’s still too hot to go to the park.
This one especially likes McDonald’s.
Sierra sure was hungry.
And while we were in the restroom, Sierra tried to overcome her fear of the hand dryer.
She actually turned it on. But bolted immediately after I snapped this.
Are you wondering what the poop part of the post will be? Well, I don’t have pictures of this little story, but I thought it was too extreme to keep to myself.
If you get easily disgusted by poop stories (as I do!) don’t read on.
We went to Kohl’s in search of 18m and 2T sized clothes for Payson. I picked out a few things and made my way to the dressing room to see if they’d fit my little man.
I got him dressed up in the first outfit.
I decided I didn’t like the outfit much and started taking the next outfit off the hanger.
And then I smelled something. Something very, very bad.
I immediately knew it was Payson and that I’d better get things together right away and go change him. I bent down to pull off the outfit he was wearing.
And then it all took a turn for the worse.
Upon removal of the outfit I noticed poop. Poop up his back. Poop down his legs. Poop covering the outfit.
Aren’t blow outs supposed to stop before a year old?
In the seconds it took to remove the outfit I’d somehow became maimed as well. There was poop on my arm. On my shirt, on my hand.
After briefly gagging I went into efficient robot mode.
Do you know that mode?
Where the gag reflex and repulsion and just plain old not wanting to deal get turned off and you are simply a robot trained to clean poop as quickly as possible.
Problem was… I didn’t have wipes in my bag, I didn’t have a diaper, a towel, anything. There was poop everywhere.
What could I do? I panicked a little under the poop-cleaning-robot mode.
I got things cleaned up. And by cleaned up I mean put Payson’s old clothes back on to contain his poop covered back and booked it to the check out counter. I handed the cashier the tag for the outfit, paid and made my way to my car, carrying Payson by his armpits the whole way.
Arriving at my car posed a new challenge. How do you unlock the door when your keys are in your purse and your toddler is covered in poop and you need both hands to carry him, holding him away from your body?
I grabbed a sweater I had in the car, thankfully, and wrapped it around him and then set him in his carseat.
There was no way I was changing his diaper right there in the parking lot. He was covered in poop under those layers of cloth and there is really no amount of wipes that could handle that mess.
This is when I noticed the streak of poop in his hair. Fun.
We drove home in a car that caused me to gag. I called Allan on the way to vent and calm myself down.
You see, robot mode is effective but when exiting robot mode I tend to have a meltdown from the built up stress.
I got home and then was faced with the task of bathing Payson. But first I had to wash myself. I put him in the bathtub next to the shower. Took my shirt off and washed my arms and stomach in the sink. Then went and scrubbed down Payson.
I washed all the clothes involved in the accident, twice.
And later I cleaned my tub.
I took a picture of freshly bathed Payson. Dressed him and put him to bed.
And then I sat on the couch and stared into space while the girls watched kid shows for an hour.