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September 27, 2009
This was the tenth
The other night, I was working on my computer in the kitchen and my husband was playing on his in the living room. Mandy, of course, was all over the place, but seemed to settle in the hall. After a few minutes, it started concerning me that I couldn't hear what she was doing, but I urged myself to continue my work as my deadline was fast approaching. A minute or so later, that nagging thought came to me again, but I reminded myself that Mike was responsible for her at that moment and there's not much in the hall she can get into anyway. It was only a few minutes until I was having the thought again, but I reminded myself that 9 times out of 10, she was playing nicely with a doll. Seeing me would only cause her to abandon the doll in favor of me and all hope of working would be gone.
I guess I hadn't been keeping count because apparently this was that 10th time. Mike put his computer away and walked into the kitchen. He was standing there, looking into the hall where I knew Mandy was and I heard him say "she's gotten into her diaper." I was looking at him, but didn't see the horrified expression that such a thing should bring about, so I was confused. My brain was getting mixed signals as my husband said that something had happened that we must deal with immediately, and yet there he stood, calmly looking on. I finally decided to get up and see what the actual situation was and it was then that I realized why he was simply staring on. The scene was just too horrific to fully take in at once.
The girl looked like she tried to apply the poop like lotion to her hands, wiping the excess off onto her shirt and in her hair. Chunks had fallen to the floor. Portions had been smeared up & down the spindles of my railings. It was deep in the cracks and crevices of the baby gate at the top of my stairs. It was smeared all over the side & on a portion of the front of my couch. It was on the top, bottom and legs of my coffee table. I would have liked the luxury of just standing & staring at it for a minute. It would have been nice to form a game plan. Decide what to tackle first. But my baby was covered head to toe in poop and I HAD TO GET IT OFF! So I grabbed her under her pits and carried her at arms length to the shower. While that water was warming up enough to spray on her, I removed her clothing & picked up the chunks on the floor in the hopes of keeping the mess from spreading. Mike was right behind me taking the baby gate outside to hose off. Then he went on to get started cleaning the couch. I guess my action brought him out of his horror-induced frozen state.
You may or may not know that she loves nothing more than water, in any form, so she thought the shower was quite fun. I was trying to admonish her, but she was just too busy stomping in the water in the tub. After a good scrubbing, I took her to her room for a new diaper and some clothes. I tried the admonishing again "you made a bad mess" I said. She giggled. Oh yes, she did. So I deposited her little butt in her crib and told her she had to stay there until we got her mess cleaned up. She cried during the entire cleaning process and Mike was losing patient with that. I was glad she was crying because it was the only sign I had that she was feeling at all punished. (She had received one pop on the leg before the shower, but at that moment, getting her clean was more important than punishing her & I just don't think she even noticed the pop.)
When we started our remodeling a few years ago, we made every decision based on ease of cleaning. Semi-gloss paint that can be scrubbed, Pergo flooring, and this was the basis of my wanting a leather couch. We looked at others, but I told Mike one little drop of grape juice and a fabric one is ruined. I've never been prouder of that decision in my life. It actually wasn't easy to get off the couch - the leather texture sort of held onto it, but finally some really hot water and a terry cloth towel seemed to truly pull all of it out of the grooves. But had it been cloth, all would have been lost. As it is, I have yet to lay my head on that particular arm of it.
I decided the next day to give potty training another try, but she's simply not ready. She cried like I'm doing something bad when I try to get her to sit on the potty. I think my next step in this process is to make diapers less comfortable for her. Either cloth diapers, or cloth training pants, but no more super absorbent, super comfy disposable diapers. Maybe that will help her want to potty train.
Suffice it to say, I will be checking on all quiet periods, no matter how brief until further notice.
| By Wifeepoo | 3:24 PM
