You HAVE been warned.
Parenting, a wonderfully rewarding and often joyous profession. What's not to love about mini-me's and their cute ways of doing and saying this and that. Oh the parental bliss.
Now, don't get me wrong. I LOVE having two girls. For the most part I can juggle both girlies (not literally. I don't have the muscles for it.) with veritable ease. Sure, it's phenomenally exhausting and sometimes I feel like we're barely squeaking by, but we do all right and I REALLY enjoy it.
But sometimes, oh sometimes, there are those moments that they don't warn you about.
So there I am breastfeeding Margaret on the couch. As we do. Her little hand is curled tightly around my finger while I try and pry it open to get out all the fuzz trapped in her palm. (Seriously, her sweaty little palms are lint traps. But anyway...) Audrey is standing nearby talking to me about something and I'm half-listening and trying to decipher what she's saying while Margaret is playing up and latching and unlatching. Then Audrey goes silent. This should have been my first warning. Audrey is never. ever. silent--Okay let's back up for a minute. We've been potty training on and off for the past couple weeks. Audrey has been doing BEAUTIFULLY and has taken to the potty really well. We've just been going the bare-bottomed route and letting her sit on the potty at will. But today, I tried pants on Audrey. Just your average loose fitting pants with no unders on underneath so that she could pull them up and down easily. Okay. Back to the story--Audrey goes silent. Audrey is never ever silent and, silly me, I didn't take much notice of it.
Audrey freezes and looks at me with huge eyes, "Uh oh.. UH OH! MAMA! UH OH!"
"It's okay. What is it, Audrey?"
"OH NO!"
And then I smell it. Oh no.
"Audrey, did you do poopies in your pants?"
"AHHHhhhh!"
"Did you do poopies in your pants?"
"Yaaash."
I instruct her to lean towards me so I can take a peek at the damage done.
Oh gosh. No. WHY?! NOOOOOOOO!
I throw Margaret to the side (set her on the couch gently) and tell Audrey not to move so that I can deal with this crisis of the worst kind.
A bit of diarrhea. The stuff is everywhere. I hastily pull out roughly 3 zillion wipes so that I can contain the mess. Wipe. Oh gosh. Wipe. THERE'S MORE?! Wipe. AAAAAAACK. Wipe. etc. I gently tug off her pants the rest of the way and the BIGGEST TURD OF MY LIFE falls out the pant leg and gets all over the carpet. Then Margaret proceeds to throw up all over herself. Since I interrupted her feeding and I didn't get to burp her properly, her reflux got the better of her and she spewed. EVERYWHERE!
Big deep breaths. (Not through my nose, duh. That would be foolish.)
I proceed to finish cleaning up (I'll spare you the rest of the details) and literally run to the bathroom to start a bath for my, now, both crying, girls. Audrey is bawling because of her accident and I spend 5 minutes telling her that accidents happen and then spend the rest of the bath time reviewing where poopies are supposed to go. After awhile both girls calm down and the bath time, thankfully, ends on a high note. Margaret, exhausted from all the excitement, passes out in my arms and then takes a three hour nap. Audrey, now in higher spirits, happily plays with her doll house while I reel from the morning's events and carry on with laundry and my various housework.
Audrey has a few more accidents before the end of the day. Thankfully just pee this time. All in all it turned out to be a pretty good day.
But dang. The things they don't warn you about. Because... HOW DO YOU PREPARE FOR MOMENTS LIKE THIS?! In the end, you've just got to shake it off and laugh. You've got to. Otherwise you're day will just be really crappy.
;)
