I never thought that I would grow to so entirely loathe the smell of poop as I now do. When you catch a whiff of it while your kiddos are diapered, you’re emotions are less than enthusiastic. When you however smell poop while you are 200% positive you have diaper-less children gallivanting about… well that’s downright frightening. You start panicking because it could be… anywhere! You just don’t see it, but by golly you sure as heck smell it.
Why this has happened to me four times already this summer is beyond me. I guess I trusted them too much. I don’t know whatever made me think I could walk them from the diaper table to the tub without having a haz-mat situation on my hands… and feet.
What made me believe that 10 minutes in a bathing suit while the pool filled up would render a child Job-like, standing in a pile of dung in my yard?
What on earth was I thinking when I put two incredibly full kids into a tub of hot water? I should have known that the relaxing waters would naturally encourage them to totally destroy the pristine cleanliness of their bath.
Why do my posts center around this topic so frequently? Mainly because I am so in shock as to what types of thing my days now center around.
I don’t think I ever said the phrase,
“There is poop EVERYWHERE!”
so much in my life until now.
I feel I’ve reached a new, stinky low.
Today I nearly cracked. Yesterday I had to deal with a tub-clean up that was less than pleasant. Two weeks ago, my gorgeous wool woven rug had poop smashed so deep into its fibers I cried. (Seriously) The best part? Camera Guy was the one who stepped in it, with his bare feet, and carried it around the carpet before I walked in and stopped everything with
“Oh God, I smell poop!”
That’s usually how it starts. That and the realization that bath time is around the bend, or pool time. I can’t even begin to explain how my husband had no idea he stepped in poop with his bare feet. No clue.
Today however, well today was something else.
The kids were playing in the pool wonderfully, we’d been outside for almost an hour. The phone rang and I picked it up. The kids jumped out of the pool and began chasing each other in the yard. I took note of how hungry I was getting, and starting making plans to cook some lunch as soon as I hung up.
No sooner did I put the phone down, did that awful, frightening moment happen:
“Oh no, I smell poop!”
Immediately Princess blames her brother and Chubs just giggles. I noticed a brown smudge on Princesses shoulder. I glanced at her legs and saw the same marking on her legs…and on her hands…and then I started to freak out.
“Don’t move! Poop is everywhere!”
I ran around the backyard like a lunatic trying to find the hose, and simultaneously shouting,
“I said do NOT MOVE! And Do NOT touch your brother!”
I couldn’t think straight, my mind was flipping out. Where else was it? On the doormat? On the deck? On toys? I ran inside and outside numerous times before I got my act together.
“Ok, towel, wipes, garbage bags…ack! It smells up here too!”
I jumped down the deck stairs frantically searching for any more particles that I missed.
Flies started swarming around Princesses tush as I wiped the smudges away as quickly as possible.
“Ew Ew EWWWW. This is SO GROSS!”
I whimpered to myself. I started gettting nauseous. So much for my appetite for lunch. Chubs ran towards us since I was crouched on the ground, thinking we were playing a game.
“ACK! Get out of here! No no no! Poop is everywhere!”
It’s like my brain had completely shut down and the only sentence I apparently could function to say was that one.
I stripped her down as fast as I could, threw out the bathing suit and hosed her down. The only problem was that the water quickly formed a humungous puddle which, you guessed it, Chubs immediately began to jump in.
I kind of just held my mouth open, totally in shock of what was happening, going “Uhhhh… no.. no… nooooo” and I cringed grabbing him too, and thrust him underneath the hose.
Once everyone was finally cleaned up and marched back inside we meticulously scrubbed fingernails, washed and re-washed hands, and then used hand sanitizer. I was officially freaked out.
That’s the physiologically damaging part of incidents like this. You never fully recover from these things. In fact the remainder of the day, everything was smelling like poop to me, causing me to get buggy, jump down on my hands and knees and search for that piece of misery, with my Lysol bottle in hand. Everything from my laptop to the books we were reading made me jump out of my skin and go,
“I smell it again! It’s somewhere! I know it!”
Talk about stress.
I don’t know what lessons I’ve learned quite honestly. Never take the diaper off? Feed them more bananas and rice? Or just invest in heavy duty carpet cleaners and a moon suit? Right now, they all sound like good options to me. Of course right now all I’d like to do is bury my head under a pillow and take a nap to recover but I can’t. Because my pillow smells like poop too.