Up To My Elbows In Poop

Last night I was reading a book. It's only mediocre so far but the main character, a mother, was talking about holding and snuggling babies, etc... Now she had described those small moments with children and cuddling so well I was convinced I could not go to bed until I snuggled with each of my sleeping children. I walked down the hall and smelled poop. A little weird, probably just Issac in his sleep. So I go in his room and the smell intensifies. I kneel down beside the lower bunk and turn him to steal a peak in his diaper from the hall light leaking into the room. To my utter surprise and disgust that wasn't needed. As I flipped him I felt crusted poop leaking out of his diaper and all along his back.

I walked back and flipped on the light knowing that the mess I was about to engage in cleaning up would require it. Sure enough some crazy mini flu bug flew through our house in the past two days, making all the kids poop extra stinky and soft. Hence the leakage. On the floor I see a clump of "dirt". I pick it up to throw it away wondering where it came from and that is when I realize that it is a triangular poop turd. There are one or two other clumps and I am beginning to wonder what the heck happened. Then I discover smeared poop all along the ladder rungs of the bunk bed. And my mind is beginning to fill in the missing blanks of what took place.

Issac probably poohed after we put him to bed but before he feel asleep. He played a little, which is not unusual, but smeared it along the rungs, the floor, himself, oooh. But now he is dead asleep laying in it. So I clean up everything and wait to wake him up last because I know he will need a bath and might possibly flip out. Upon waking him I carry him to the bathroom (easier to clean floor) and change him out of his diaper, clean him as best I can, and throw him in the bath. Miracle of miracles he is elated to be woken up to take a bath. He typically loves them anyway, but the specialness of this bath and alone time with me is more than he can comprehend and he is full of sleepy smiles and love.

Once he was all cleaned, I dressed him, put him back to bed, and could barely manage enough energy a little past eleven to go hold each of the other kids hands for a brief moment. Snuggle, really? I was just glad I found it at night instead of in the morning. When I wake up to that kind of thing, it just starts my day all wrong. Regardless I guess that is the difference between a real mother and a ficticious mother.