Poopageddon- A True Story

SO I have been on a writing hiatus for the past six months. 

Less than a month after my miscarriage I discovered that I was expecting again. I am now 7 1/2 months pregnant with a precious baby boy. I took the last six months off from writing because I felt like my heart needed a season of silence as I worked through my grief, anxiety, and joy.

The last six months have been filled with many ups and downs, tears and laughs, and two growing boys who give me a run for my money everyday. I can’t wait to catch you all up on the many stories I have accrued during this time.

 Today I would like to share with you an experience I had during this past sick season… one I assure you I will never forget. Enjoy. 

I did it.

I laid both the boys down in the same room for nap time… or quiet time. Take your pick. I didn’t care what they did actually. Sleep or play, they were banished to their room so that we could all get some rest. Their pregnant Mamma was tired, and it was time for some silence. Putting them in separate rooms had created more tears so I decided that they could just enjoy their nap time together. I did not have the energy to do anything otherwise.

After laying the boys down, I relaxed on the couch ready to enjoy some Netflix and alone time. I basked in the quiet. When your life is full of noise- roars, grunts, growls, robots, animals, or even the occasional pirates- the sound of silence is so thick, so fluffy, you can almost wrap your arms around it and use it as a pillow.

I enjoyed this peace for all  of twenty minutes. 

That is when I heard a door open and the shuffled steps of a little one coming down the stairs. Hudsy was on the move.  I saw his face peak around the corner a few minutes later. I decided I would not make a big deal out of it and just let him play. His brother had apparently fallen asleep so at least I vanquished one.

But then I smelled something.

Great. A poopy diaper. I did not feel like changing a poopy diaper. I silently thanked the heavens that Holden had finally conquered his fear of defecating on the toilet, and used this gratitude to get off the couch to  change his brother’s diaper.c30ef99afdc6833cb6f6e1a50ebca8d4

I noticed Hudsy looked dirty, and I thought that was odd. I did not remember him being so dirty when I laid him down.

“Guess we will be having bath time for sure tonight” I thought to myself as I gagged trying to get his diaper off. But when I got the diaper off there was nothing in it.

NOTHING.

No. Please. For the Love. No.

Deep down I knew that was not dirt all over his hands and on his face. I looked closer. One thing I did know was that this “dirt” most certainly was the cause of the smell.

Did he find a dirty diaper to play with upstairs? What the heck? He was way too old for that. He has not done that in like.. six months.. at least. 

Gulping down my frustration I hurried upstairs to hunt down the dirty diaper and whatever mess its little finder had made.

When I could not find it in any of the other rooms, I slowly opened the door to the boy’s room, and it hit me.

The smell.

The smell always hits you first. 

No.

No.

This was not a dirty diaper incident…

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… before me lay a wasteland of feces.

Someone had gotten explosive diarrhea. 

I tried to piece together what had happened in this war zone.

I saw the starting point. A brown puddle on the floor now smeared on the wall.

I saw that the child, in a desperate attempt to clean himself, had taken off his pants and underwear. He had fallen over in the process and gotten it all over his bed on the ground. He decided that this would be a good time to try to clean the area and himself up… with his blankets.

At some point he was standing again and had another attack. It squirted onto the bookshelf and his books. He must have been horrified. As he walked, apparently while defecating the Nile river, he spread his feces over his play mat, toys, on to the mirror, and even into the closet. This was getting impressive.

Another puddle.

But where was this poor sick soldier?

Finally I made it to the desk, and it was underneath that desk that I found Holden huddled, covering another brown swamp of his creation. This is where it had ended. The last explosion had gone off here, and he had hunkered down over it.. afraid and covered in his own poop.

I looked around. I looked at all the smeared poop. Holden’s sphincter had impressive reach and breadth. Apparently I was not the only one who admired this because his little brother had decided to use this brown liquid as a type of paint- face, body, and all other manners of paint.

It was a Apoopcolypse. Poopageddon. War of Feces. Battle of the Butt. D(iarrhea)-Day.

I picked poor Holden up from under that desk and assured him that he was not in trouble and that sometimes we get sick- but when that happens we need to call for Mommy so she can help.

I took both boys and put them in the bathtub. While washing them I even found poop behind their ears. How is that even possible? 

Next, I surveyed the wasteland that was their room. How was I going to clean all this off without vomiting everywhere? That was key. When I called Taylor he had said he would help. So I decided that I was going  to play the pregnancy card, and Taylor was going to have to clean the carpets. I could not be in that room with that stench for an extended period of time.

But I would take care of the rest.

I gathered up the play mat, toys, blankets, and clothes into a basket and brought them to the front yard. I took the hose and hosed down all my poop covered belongings right there on my front lawn. My neighbors have seen my children use our lawn as a toilet multiple times so I figured this would not be surprising at all.

“Hey Paul, how’s it going? Going good over here. Just fertilizing the lawn with Holden’s poop. Oh you know… the usual.”

I would like you to know that it took three runs of the carpet steamer to get the poop stains out. Taylor was a saint and scrubbed that carpet. Also, Holden now knows that when he breathes fire out of his booty he must yell for Mommy before little brother decides to have his own personal art festival. Hudsy did not learn anything except that it is possible for Mommy to laugh and cry at the same time.

And Mommy has yet another memory to laugh at for many years to come.

 

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