Getting comfortable

Just when I feel like things are getting under control at home, maybe even comfortable, something throws me for a loop.

Warning:  This is a story about poop.

I got this email from the babysitter at 10:39 today:  "hey john Paul peed on himself where are his clothes please"

Why yes, he has been potty trained for over a year!  Lately he's been holding it as long as possible and then freaking out and running to the potty while ripping off his clothes.  Once in a while he pees a *tiny* bit in his underwear and has to grab a new pair.  But today?  Nope, didn't run to the potty.  Just peed all over himself.

So I get home and he's just gone down for his nap and so has Cecilia and I think, "Okay, I've got maybe an hour with *just* the little babies!"  Nope, Cecilia decided not to nap and was VERY upset when I suggested that she go to sleep.  Must remind the babysitter to close her bedroom door so that she doesn't see me putting Mary Claire in the swing to go down for HER nap.

So Cecilia comes downstairs with Elizabeth and me and we play and read for a while, swapping Elizabeth & Mary Claire at some point.  Then she decides she needs to use the potty and we realize the potty bowl is downstairs.  "I NOT poop on da floor!  Never never poop on da floor!"

So we head to the basement and it reeks of poop.  My first thought is, "Did John Paul poop in his pants?"  But I quickly dismiss it because he has NEVER had more than a skidmark in his underwear since we started the whole potty training process over a year ago.  We walk into the room and John Paul immediately jumps up saying, "OH it was an accident!" and starts peeling off his pants.  On the white carpet (not my idea, stupid rental townhouse).  So I pick him up and bring him to the bathroom (while nursing Mary Claire), hoping against all odds that maybe this will be one of those super-solid non-messy poops?

Nope.  All those lentils I've been feeding him have been great for his digestive system.  So we have the most disgusting of situations on our hands (and feet, legs, posteriors, etc...) and Cecilia still needs to poop and Mary Claire is still nursing...  So I send Cecilia upstairs with the potty bowl, hoping she'll just take care of business herself.  Meanwhile, Mary Claire is now on the floor, looking around calmly and happily.  John Paul is still sticking his booty up in the air in the bathroom.  I clean him off as best I can and hear Cecilia coming down the stairs...

"I did NOT poop all over myself!"

No.  She.  Did.  Not.  She potty trained herself more than 6 months ago and I can count the accidents on one hand.  Now is not the time.

She's coming down the stairs with her pants and underwear around her ankles and I'm BEGGING God to be merciful and He is because she has NOT pooped all over herself.  She hasn't done anything, she just decided to take care of business on the big potty instead.

Thank goodness.

So John Paul's butt, thighs, feet, ankles, and hands are finally clean.  My hands are clean.  Cecilia is wiped and clean.  Elizabeth is still asleep.  Mary Claire is still calmly lying on the floor.  And I try to calm myself by thinking of all the things that I'm thankful for that made this a somewhat bearable situation.

Like a sleeping baby upstairs, so I didn't have to find some way to clean this up while nursing both babies.

And the calm and satiated baby who was happy to amuse herself while I cleaned up.

 

Edit:  Shortly after writing this, I found out that she's capable of projectile vomiting all the way to her feet when lying in the swing.  Put a blanket on it, changed the onesie, we're good.

And the self-sufficient toddler who happily took the potty bowl upstairs and came back to use the big potty instead, eliminating another possible clean-up task.

And the somewhat helpful preschooler who went upstairs with minimal fussing and got himself a clean pair of underwear and pants.

And the big kids who potty trained at 2.5 and 1.5, respectively.  Because I could very easily still be changing their diapers if they were different children.

And the fact that I just got a Pim DVD from the library and it's definitely time to send the kids downstairs to watch that so I can take care of the twins without yelling at the older kids for waking them up every time they fall asleep...

What would have been better?  Um, maybe no poop in the pants?  But it's kind of a theme in my life that when things get too easy, God gives me a reminder of just how good I have it. 

And maybe this is the last time He'll have to take me down a notch by employing defecation...