If you work with me or know me to any extent, you see this word and instantly cringe. I know I do.
Potty training is so not my favorite thing to do. But, I'm doing it for the third time. Brayden in all of his obstinence is by far the most challenging of the the three. On this fine Sunday afternoon, with church successfully attended, lunch eaten and cleaned up, laundry almost done, the house picked up...I'm beginning to get giddy about the possibility of taking a nap.
I notice a slight clench in my stomach and the sweat breaking out on my brow. Hmmm, I ponder. My older two children had a stomach bug over the past two days. I've managed, as usual, to avoid it, Thank God! But the sweat has me worried.
Brayden looks up from his block tower demolition session and announces, "Mommy!!!! I need to potty!" "Yay!" I scream, more so that he's actually recognized it and told me before I figured it out on my own. I take his hand and run him to the bathroom. As I enter, my stomach reaches out to me and takes hold of my shirt collar and says, "Listen Lady, I've been warning you! But you never listen!!!" I double over in pain. Oh my gosh! I think. My husband is at Home Depot. I yell for my older two kids. "Camden, Allison, come quick, I need you!!" "Coming" they yell in unison. My daughter is the first to appear. "I'm sick I say, can you please just sit in here with Brayden until I get back. I just need a minute." My son meanders down the hall and listens. "You don't have to wipe him or anything, just sit here and watch him. I'll be right back," I yell as I run to my bathroom.
Head in my hands, I rerun the images in my head. I used gloves, bleach, etc... I washed my hands. I can't believe I got this! Ugh! Just as I resign myself to the fact that nausea is going to accompany this bug, but I can make it 24 hours, my little guy from guest bathroom yells, "Mooommmmy, I'm dooonnnneeee!" "Okay," I yell back, "I'll be right there." Then it hits me, if his brother and sister are sitting in there with him, why is he yelling to me? "No," I think, I told them they didn't have to wipe him, just sit there, so that's why he's yelling.
I walk back into the hall and before I see anything, I notice the smell. It's bad, really bad. I glance at the floor and realize that I don't see any feet sticking out of the doorway of the bathroom. "No," I think to myself. As I come around the doorway, I finally see.... Oh yes, see.... My beautiful Mediterranean yellow bathroom with the explosion of Hobby Lobby items on each wall, is now covered, yes I said COVERED from floor to ceiling, wall to wall....POOP! Not only has he flung it monkey style all over the bathroom, the walls that he could reach from where he was sitting have swirls and designs created in true toddler finger painting style.
Once he realized that he didn't really like having poop all over his hands, he decides to get it off. I can see where he's wiped his hands on the toilet, the sink, the toilet paper dispenser, the magazine rack and finally in true desperation to rid his tiny fingers of the offensive substance, he has taken his hands and starting at the base of his ears, rubbed his hands up the sides of his head repeatedly, essentially creating a poop MOHAWK!
My heart sinks, my nose protests, my stomach clenches and tears threaten the sides of my eyes. Our eyes meet, temporarily, then he looks down at the floor refusing to meet my stare again.
"Camden, Allison," I yell. "Coming!" they both say, yet again. I step back from the bathroom door and meet them in the hall. "Do you remember when I asked you to just sit with your brother?" "Yes," they say, not meeting my eyes. "Where did you go?" I ask. "There's a new Disney show on," my daughter rationalizes with me. "Oh," I say. "Do you know what happens when you leave a two year old unattended on the potty?" I ask. "Ugh," she cringes. "No, but I bet you're going to tell us." ( I don't know where she gets her wit. LOL)
I invite them both into the bathroom, which might not have been the best decision in retrospect. Allison, poor weak stomached Allison begins to dry heave. Oh great, I think vomit too??!! Really? Camden my 12 year old, steps back into the kitchen and emerges with two sets of large rubber gloves. "Go sit down Mom," he says bravely. "You're sick, we've got this." I shock myself and laugh quickly and shortly and maybe a little maniacally.
"We'll get him to the bath and then we'll do the bathroom." "No," I say, "but you can get him to the bath while I clean the bathroom." They each pull on their, shoulder to fingertip rubber gloves. Camden grabs Brayden under the arms and Allison grabs his feet. They carry him to the uncapped drain tub and place him in to the warm running water. "Don't forget his ears," I call. Allison heaves yet again, but completes the job.
I fill up my bucket of bleach water and paper towels and spend the rest of the afternoon scrubbing every tiny inch of the guest bath.
I despise Mohawks!!
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