Holy Shit. (A Pooptastrophy)

For those of you who cannot handle poop stories, just get out of this now.

For those of you who aren't affected by the look of poop, the consistency of poop, the smell of poop, the amount of poop, the aftershocks of poop, OR, for those of you who are just a bit sick and twisted, proceed with caution...

And no, I don't have any pictures. My phone won't take them anymore so you'll just have to rely on my masterful storytelling skills. Plus, it all happened way too fast...

On a nice, balmy Wisconsin day (18 degrees) when I already felt like I was suffering from seasonal affective disorder (hold on. As I type this, the poop offender is yanking all of my hair out and it hurts.)

Okay, so I already have what seems to be SAD, and (hold on. Who the hell came up with that fancy schmancy acronym? Did they come up with the SAD part first then make it fit or did they say, "hey. I feel seasonally affected and it's sort of becoming a disorder?" Just saying.)

SAD. Or maybe the meds just aren't working they way that they used to, but either way I've had one of those weekends when nothing is really WRONG, but I still feel like everything is wrong. Stupid Wisconsin and its darkness. I don't know how people in Alaska deal with the darkness without going completely looney. I wonder what the ratio of normal to nuts is in dark snowy places like Alaska and Wisconsin vs. more equatorial destinations such as Florida and Texas. I'll betcha it's an obvious answer.

But I digress as always. Now for the story of the month:

I was already pooped (pun intended) and feeling blah. Our friends from PA were here, and Dan took them over to our neighbor's house while Avery and I waited for Morgan to wake up from her nap. Now mind you, Avery had her first success story on the potty today! She peed!!!!! Awesome, right?!?!?!? But then she became obsessed with going to the potty. On, off, on, off, on, off.....

Avery: Owie. There's poop in there!

Me: Is there really poop in there or do you have to go?

And inevitably, there was either pee or poo in there. But hey, at least she recognized the feeling and able to articulate it! Great milestone!

But after the first success this afternoon, it got weird. It was the "owie" part that confused me.

Me: Owie? Does your butt hurt? Is the diaper up your butt? Do you need butt goo?

Avery: Yeah.

So we did all of that. Repeatedly.

Then we went upstairs to wake Morgan up at 4:00 so we could go over to Hayden's ASAP.  But the following ensued... please note the record time in which I dealt with this:

4:00: Wake Morgan up and tell her we're going to Hayden's

4:01: Morgan freaks out because she wet her bed during her nap, which rarely happens anymore.

4:03: Morgan calms down enough to get her pee pee clothes off, and we get her in new ones. I tossed the clothes and the pee pee blankets over the railing for continued transportation to the basement at a later date.

4:06: We go downstairs. But this takes 4 minutes because Avery is stalling. Up and down, front and back, room and stairs, babies and blankies...finally got downstairs.

4:10: Get Avery's pants and shoes on. Get their coats on. Get Morgan's shoes on, sans socks. Who cares? We are driving over since it's so freaking cold!!!!! The time it takes to get from the car to the house is enough to freeze boogers. Imagine what a 6 house distance could do.

4:15: Avery again says, "owie. There's poop in there."

I figure it's yet another false alarm and she just hates the pull up.

4:15.30: I lay her down on the family room floor, take off her newly put on pants and shoes, wondering why she didn't tell me this before I put her clothes on, glancing at the pull up diaper wondering when the heck she'll decide to finally go on the potty again, yanking the pull up off her butt in a hurry trying to get out of the door so I barely notice that as I'm taking the diaper off and it's turning inside out on its way down that there is a ton of runny diarrhea chunky nasty stinky poo going with it (why I didn't smell it I have no idea) and it's all over the diaper her butt my family room floor my jeans my hands her legs her feet my shirt MY GOD!!!!!


Yes, let's all take a moment of silence......



I violated the cardinal sin of CHECKING THE DIAPER FIRST! Why?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!? AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I mourn for the days when hygiene was important, when I cared about the dogs more than anything, but at that moment, when I was covered in shit and looking at Avery going, ohjeezohjeezohjeezohjeezohjeezohjeezohjeezohjeezohjeez, Morgan, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE go go go get the paper towels (which didn't happen since she was watching Spongebob and looking at me like I was a complete stranger), so I looked at Avery's butt covered in disgusting ewie chunky slop all up her ass crack and down her legs and on her feet and on her legs and all of the same goo on my clothes, my hands, then lifted her up by the feet, upside down, holding her out in front me like she was contaminated, into the kitchen, where I looked at her poor little face upside down, placed her on the floor, and said, "DON'T MOVE!"

She didn't.

She must have been completely mortified and confused to have laid there so still, because we all know that she's an active baby, regardless of situation. I was able to get the paper towels and wipe most of the muddy gluey goo off of my thighs, my crotch, my waist, and the front of my shirt, fully intending to get to Avery next when I heard Morgan:

"Cooper, NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Really? Could it be happening?

Could my Cushing's Disease, always hungry, always panting, always thirsty dog be...?
No. It couldn't be.

Morgan: MOMMY!!!!!!!!!!!!! COOPER NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! DEAGAN, NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!"

Yes.

There the two dumb asses were, eating shit. Warm, chunky, muddy, stinky, gooey shit. Slopping it up like there was no food left in the world, caring not a lick (pun intended) of its consistency, temperature, and origin. They only cared that it was edible (sort of).

Me: That's okay, Morgan. It's less for Mommy to pick up...

Yup.

Don't care.

Dan will say that this is horrifically gross, (and remember...Dan won't read this because it's about poop, so he won't see this part...), just like the recent last time they ate something nasty...Deagan was gagging in the family room, so I sent him outside to puke. Sydney followed him. He puked outside. He started eating it. I yelled, EWWWW! He's eating it!

Dan: Well, go outside and make him stop!

Me: No way! It's 8 degrees out there! (Like I said, Wisconsin is a balmy, warm, temperate state)

Dan: You have shoes on, I don't!

Me: I'm not going out there! Who cares!!!! EWWWWWW!!!!!!! Sydney's eating it, too!!!!!!!

Dan: (at door) DEAGAN!!!!!!!!!!! SYDNEY!!!!!!!!!! NOOOOOOO! (to me) Chris, go out there and make them stop! That's disgusting!

Me: No way! Who cares!? Not worth the freezing cold!

Dan: But they kiss us with those mouths! They lick the kids!

Me: But they lick their own private parts on a daily basis! Which is worse!?

(Just saying...again...)

Back to current situation....

So I let them eat the shit. Yup, I did. Do I regret it? Nope. Why? Because they haven't thrown it up yet and they did a good job cleaning it. Very little extra cleaning on my part. They got all of the chunks. I used the oxy-clean spray for a final touch up.

4:30: Out the door to go to Hayden's.

:)

Update at 6:58 pm?

Wine.

Super woman, poopie fighter, dog corral-er, stain-fighter, dishes-doer, pee pee antagonist, laundry-hater, goo cleaner, food-getter, butt-fixer, kid-lover, patience-having, sanity lacking mommy.

That's me.