Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Sometimes It Really Is Just Too Much

Last night I got the girls into bed early for a few reasons. Anneliese had a rough night the night before, and I'd had maybe 4 hours of sleep, so I was exhausted. Anneliese was begging to go to bed early, anyway, probably for the same reason. I also wanted to be sure that they got enough sleep because 2/3 of my kids have dentist appointments today. One at 11:15, the other at 11:45. Luckily, the next appointment isn't until 2:00... Grace has a follow-up with the GI specialist at the children's hospital.


Equally as lucky, Manny said he'd come home during the GI appointment so that I only need to bring Grace with me. This turns out to be very important for my sanity and gag-reflex.


The plan for this morning was to have a light breakfast for everyone, some coffee, some play time, and then a shower for the girls. There was no way to delay it until bed time, since Anneliese had toothpaste in her hair. Of course, this being my personal parenthood soap opera, a wrench got tossed into the works, causing our entire morning schedule to explode and get blasted into a million pieces, and my day full of shit.


Warning! Warning! Warning! If you have a weak stomach, please, do NOT read any further, but back out of this blog entry right now. When I said my day is full of shit, I'm being quite literal.

After a week or two of Grace refusing to poop willingly by squeezing her butt cheeks as tightly as possible, aka The Super Butt Cheek Squeeze, when feeling the urge to go, I started giving her the Rx for glycolax, which the GI specialist gave her 11/12 weeks ago in case she got constipated. Since taking her off dairy, she hasn't been constipated, but of course by forcing herself not to go, that's where she was headed. Monday night, I had called the pediatrician, worried because she was still holding it in, allowing only tiny poops out because it was being forced out. She started complaining of back pain from holding the poop in and the strain of constantly using The Super Butt Cheek Squeeze. The dr and I agreed that we had to make sure that she got to the point of pooping without being able to help it. As the dr said, we had to force the issue. Therefore, with the go-ahead from the pediatrician, even though I had given her a dose already on Sunday night, she was getting 17 grams mixed into a drink per day. It's colorless and flavorless, and really doesn't affect the liquid's consistency, so I've been able to successfully put it into her soy milk or cherry-grape juice.


Oh, and yes, I am solidly anti-juice for children, and I'm vocal about it, although we've made some exceptions on special occasions or parties, but for Grace I do make this exception since taking her off of lactose. It's one of the only things she can have to drink, since her favorite drink was regular whole milk.


OK, last warning, if you're still reading, to back out before you get grossed out. I'm really quite serious.
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Turn back now, or don't complain when you read the rest of this entry.



Grace had the glycolax Sunday, Monday, and again Tuesday morning. She had her initial blow-out, just missing the toilet, Tuesday afternoon. She just wasn't expecting that her Super Butt Cheek Squeeze would no longer work. At least it was NEXT to the toilet. It was a somewhat tolerable clean-up for me, although I did gag the whole time. She was quite bothered about the mess, but helped me clean up as much as I could let her, and she was very proud that she did it and there wasn't the pain or whatever it was she expected. It was certainly messier than she expected... she got unplugged really well. I was OK with it, and disinfected the bathroom. We were happy.




So this morning, as we're getting ready for the day and I'm about to make my coffee, she proudly announces that she has to use the toilet and poop. YAY PROGRESS! She's willing to poop after 2 weeks of trying to hold it in! She's not going to only allow out what forces it's way out, bit by bit, each day! No more having to check her bed to see if her bowels relaxed enough during the night to see if a log made it's way out without her noticing!



I shouldn't have thought "yay." That's what always gets me in the end.



I opened the door to check on her, and found her on the counter next to the sink in the bathroom. All up and down her legs and feet, there was wet poop. I looked to the floor to see that she had missed the toilet, and clearly she hadn't expected the blow-out that was proof her intestines were forcing out the offensive toxic waste. It was smeared all around the floor, as if she had struggled to remain standing. Then she started to whimper "I just wanted to cweeeen up Mommy!" She had the disposable wet wipes in her hands, and was trying to wipe her poop-smeared bottom.



But that wasn't the worst of it. Oh, no. Let's remember that I am The Queen, and I'm raising three Princesses, so when there is a mess, it's of Royal Proportions.



There was some solid, as well as wet, evidence of her bowel movement all over the counter. Stepped in. Smeared. Some not stepped in, yet. Some smeared around the sink. The white sink.



No, I'm not going to post photos.




Through my disbelief, I tried to suspend my disgust but failed miserably, as I managed to choke out a shocked "Oh my GOD" in a gagging, gurgling voice. Trying desperately not to step in poop, I reached over to Grace and helped her jump down from the counter. I grabbed the wet wipes, and wiped the bottoms of her feet and up her legs. She broke free and ran straight upstairs, shouting "I NEED A BAFF! I NEED A BAFF NOW!" Damn straight, you do. So I quickly closed the door to the downstairs bathroom, and herded the girls into the shower, but first allowing Grace to rinse herself off before allowing her sisters in with her. Thank God I had sterilized and washed the stall the day before.



After we were all cleaned up, I couldn't even open the downstairs bathroom door without gagging. I called The Husband and let him know what happened, gagging all the way through the rendition of the Royal Shitter Of A Mess. He laughed at me. I informed him that this was, quite literally, one of my worst nightmares come true. He says "I can think of many other things that should constitute your worst nightmare." He laughed again.

Look, I have real issues with shit like this. I can't even clean up vomit messes. My kids all learn early on in the Yonking Game (I even have trouble saying vomit, puke, and throw-up, but I will say Yonk) that when you yonk, you do it in the toilet or in a pre-designated bowl, and Mommy will gladly flush the toilet. I'll even gladly hose the kid off, but I will. Not. Touch. Yonk. I will absolutely. Not. Touch. Shit.



Thank God, yet again, for the fact that my nose doesn't work especially well. I usually have to physically check a diaper or rely on it looking like there's a poop in it to know that it's there. So it's more about the little bit of smell that gets through, and the whole... texture thing. And the whole thing about the fact that it's human waste. I have a very delicate stomach, always have.



I admit that this is horrible of me, but I took the Windex Antibacterial, and quickly opened the door, and sprayed whatever shit I saw. Juliana, from the living room, shouted "Mommy! Close that door! I can smell it from here!" Gladly, my darling.



I check the clock and I've got 15 minutes to get the girls to the dentist. DING DING DING! Saved by the virtual bell! Thankfully they were dressed and had their sandals on. I walked out of the house, feeling a mixture of dread and relief. Relief to get away from the Royal Shitter Of A Mess, and dread knowing it would be waiting for me when I got home.



I get home and hike up my pants. I HAD to hike up my pants, cuz they're a little loose and the legs are long. I'm only 5'4", you know.



Then I gritted my teeth and got the Windex Antibacterial again, held my breathe, then opened the door and gave the mess a good spray, and got out the Hoover Floormate. It won't spray, but that's OK as long as it scrubs. And it did. So the mess on the floor is cleaned up and sterilized, but the mess on the counter... well, let's just say I simply can't get up the nerve. I can't. I'm horrible, I know. I'll make another attempt before Manny gets home to watch Juliana and Anneliese during Grace's appointment, but I know he's expecting that he'll have to clean that up, or at least some of it. It's "only" the counter and sink that are left. Yes, that's where most of the mess is, but I got the other stuff out that had poop on it and I washed the floor.



Please don't hate me.



But if you continued to read all of that after I told you not to, on account of having a weak stomach, you can't complain. You chose to read it. I don't blame you for being SORRY you read it, but you just can't complain. ;-)

4 comments:

Carrie said...

Oh WOW (((HUGS))).

I haven't had it happen at THAT scale but I have the same issues with poop so I guess I can somewhat relate to the problem.

Poor Grace though. At least she tried to help clean it up! lol

Megan said...

*gag* I'm so sorry!

Katie said...

Oh my...I, quite unfortunately, can relate from past experiences. So hoping your day gets better!!!

Kyla said...

Oh man. This weekend Katie pooped on one of the dining room chairs, in her bed, and on Josh's computer chair. We had to up her Miralax dose recently, can you tell? *lol* But ours wasn't quite as disastrous. ;)