Motherhood. And poop.

Oh, motherhood.  I debated writing this post in the event that I would be turned over to child protective services (just kidding, of course), but a few weeks ago I got a real taste of toddlerhood.  And it….well…it sucked.  But I survived, and now I have a story to tell all of Aubrey’s friends when she’s in high school.  And then she can share it with her therapist.  The circle of life, you see. 

Let’s start off with this – Aubrey has started wearing pull-ups as of a few weeks ago.  She saw all of her friends wearing them, and we are potty training and all so it’s time.  The only problem with these is it’s so easy for her to take them off.  She’s the big girl now, wearing what she calls her “panties,” and she can take them off herself, thank you very much, Mommy.  I don’t mind it so much when it’s just a wet diaper.  The other type….

Anyway, so it was a nice Saturday afternoon, and I put Aubrey down for a nap.  On the weekends, she actually has started sleeping every now and then but during naptime it’s always on the floor.  I normally don’t care so long as she is getting some kind of rest.   She was actually quiet so I didn’t think anything was up.  

Two hours pass or so, and I go in there to check on her.  As I get closer to the door I smell the distinct scent of Desitin.  Funny, I don’t remember putting Desitin on Aubrey before nap.

I open the door and see her lying on the floor, hugging her butterfly.  I tiptoe over there and am greeted with the sight of my daughter’s bare butt, covered in poop, her pull-up half off.  Poop everywhere.  On the carpet, all over her diaper changing box we use, her hairbrush, the carpet, coated all over her hands.  “Aubrey!” was my immediate reaction.  She startled awake and started crying.  And then I noticed the Desitin tube, open and covered with poop.  And white Desitin smeared by her mouth. 

I kicked into high gear, immediately taking her to the bath tub, stripping her down and cleaning every inch of poop off of my kid as she sat there pitifully crying.  I tried my best to calm her down and tell her it’s okay, it’s okay, Mommy’s here, trying to not freak out about her ingesting Desitin.  T was outside mowing so I’m shouting out the window for him to get up there, which he does, and the only thing I can get out is “shit, everywhere!” to him. 

We clean her off, call poison control who told us that this is actually quite common and totally not harmful to her.  Sigh of relief breathed there.  Then we had to tackle the task of cleaning the shit from all over her room.  Oh what’s that?  Her precious butterfly?  Poop and Desitin was on her too, so I had to take her and clean her off and throw her in the dryer.  You would have thought I just shot a puppy right in front of Aubrey.  I have never seen her so traumatized in my life.  Seriously.  It was funny but at the same time I really felt for her.  I didn’t make the thing stay in the dryer the whole time, so I took it out damp and gave it to Aubrey wrapped in a towel who grabbed from me, giving me one of those “bitch, step off” looks.   I didn’t get to touch the thing for the rest of the day. 

We had to shampoo the carpets, wash everything and then throw away the things that were not salvageable.   Poop.  On my carpet.  Ugh. 

So here’s what we think happened.  Aubrey’s an independent kiddo.  She always seems to poop once we put her down for a nap, and we have to go in there and change her before she finally falls asleep.  My guess is that happened.  Little Miss “I have panties and am a big girl,” God love her, decided to change it herself. 

Someone said, “Well, put that diaper box high so she can’t reach it.”  Yeah, we did that.  I have no freaking clue how she managed to get that down.  It now sits in the closet when we put her to bed.  With a child proof door handle.  But she managed to get it down, and I’m guessing she thought “Mommy puts this cream on me, so I’ll do it myself.”  And then was tempted to try said Desitin.  She tried wiping her hands off (carpet, window, etc.)  But here’s the thing – she never cried.  You would think she would have cried for us and not fall asleep surrounded and covered in poop.  I don’t get it.

Motherhood. 

We survived and now have a story we will laugh about someday.  Not yet because I’m still traumatized but someday…and she now has something to share with her therapist as she gets older.  Because you bet your ass Mommy is using this little story as needed.