At almost 26 weeks pregnant, I'm tired. Really, freaking tired. So, I sleep to the very last minute every morning and have significantly cut down on my morning routine in order to do so. The issue with this is I've left myself with only 10 minutes lee-way time in the morning, which I've been spending with our children.
This morning, the pressure was on!
I happily emerged from the shower feeling refreshed and clean, put in my contacts and then heard the little voices of my children in their rooms. I opened our son's door first, flashed him a huge smile and bid him a good morning and then went over to our daughter's. An unusual odour hit me before my eyes registered the situation. Poop. Oh. Gawd.
Our little sweet-pea had removed her diaper, after she'd pooped, and had painted herself and her bed with said poop. Oh. My. Freaking. Gawd. She's only 1.5 years old, poop is a curious thing to her and I'm not about to traumatize her because I can't get my ass out of bed in the morning to give myself an adequate buffer for the unknown that comes with raising children.
I called to the Hubbs - father of my children, life partner, best friend - and told him we had a mess to deal with. His response was, "Did she puke?" and I chuckled, "Oh no, much more fun than that." He knew exactly what I meant.
We teamed in on the situation, I ran her a bath and he brought her to me. Cute little fleece nightie and all, right into the tub. Of course this poop was a combination of formed and soft which made for a more "exciting" cleaning experience. I had to talk the Hubbs down off the roller coaster of emotions he began to express - "Do not raise your voice at her, she hasn't done anything wrong and she shouldn't have to feel the brunt of your frustration." - and he quickly left the room to clean up her crib.
I quickly turned operation baby-clean-up into a game with her to ease her stress and soon she was giggling and "talking" with me about the poop all over her. I should mention at this point that although I don't suffer from the vomiting and/or nausea that many pregnant women suffer from, I do suffer from a very weak stomach while pregnant. As I pretended to be completely OK with the poop and the new poop-clean-up game I'd invented, I was choking down the retching. Ugh.
When she was all clean I whisked her to her room, rubbed her down with nice smelling lavender baby lotion, applied a new diaper to her and put her down on the floor to play with her brother. Phew! Crisis averted! Hubbs had already started the washing machine with the soiled bedding and had wiped down baby girl's bed. Go Team!
The rest of the morning went rather smoothly, considering, however she still threw herself into sobs as I left through the front door. My stomach in knots at both the prospect of being later to work than usual and leaving an upset little girl at home, I drove to work.
As my luck would have it, I caught up to a massive parade of large, slow-moving vehicles. Awesome. I got to drive 60 kms/hr on the highway on a morning I'd already left 10 minutes late. Just. Freaking. Awesome.
I made it to work, 20 minutes late and after learning from Hubbs that his day-trip to Calgary for meetings would mean my leaving work early to retrieve the kids from daycare. Mutha#$%^&!!!!
Good times, I tell ya. Good. Times.
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