Family

Baby Poo

Sequel has been home for a month now. We’ve settled into as much of a routine as is possible with a newborn and toddler. I no longer have any excuses for not writing, and boy, do I have a story for you!

Let me start by saying I was terrified of bringing Sequel home! Not only was I afraid of not being able to handle two kids, but I worried about the effect it would have on my relationship with Piggle. Admittedly, the first couple of days were really hard. Not because I couldn’t cope with both children, but because Piggle was finishing up on his last tooth (fina-fucking-lly). He was the anti-Christ. My patience was shot, I was exhausted, and the poor kid spent more time on the Naughty Step than anywhere else. However, WE SURVIVED!

After those first awful days, everything just fell into place. I still don’t have quite the level of energy I used to, but every day gets a bit better. So far, I’ve shown no signs of a  repeat. In fact, I feel better than I have in a very long time.

Considering my terrible standing with Karma, I can’t believe how easy the transition from one to two was. Sure, we have days when both kids need something at the same time…or moments when my body becomes a shield for Sequel when Piggle’s toys turn into high-speed missiles, but all in all, it’s been a dream!

My biggest fear about bringing Sequel home was Piggle’s anticipated reaction. I didn’t know how I was going to handle his jealousy and subsequent tantrums. I worried for nothing, though. He is so head over heels in love with his sister. He doesn’t get angry when I need to tend to her rather than dig in the sand with him. In fact, if we are playing and she starts to fuss, he demands that I pick her up for a cuddle. He is so proud to be her big brother, showing her off to anyone in a 10-foot radius. He also ensures that I never forget to change her bum, informing me every 20 minutes that Sequel has a “big, dirty poo”.

And that, my friends is where the real story begins…

I’m not sure why, but everything crazy seems to happen when I’m in the kitchen. I’m pretty sure that, if I looked back on my posts, 99% of them would start off with “Once upon a time, I was in the kitchen, and then some shit went down”. This time, though, takes the cake!

So Once upon a time, I was in the kitchen. Actually, it was last Sunday, to be exact. I couldn’t tell you what I was doing, but I assure you it was not cleaning because my house is a write-off. I had put Sequel down for some Tummy Time, which Piggle insisted on participating in. It gave me a chance to have a few minutes sans-human touching me (a rarity these days).

Things were pretty quiet, and I assumed (don’t ever assume anything but the worst with a toddler around) that Piggle was engrossed in Toy Story or something of the sort. Well, I was half right…or all-the-way-right-but-really-wish-I-hadn’t-been.

About 5 minutes into Tummy Time, Piggle yelled to inform me that Baby Sequel had a “big, dirty poop” (his exact words every time). Having just changed her, I knew he was probably just being obsessive about the cleanliness of her downstairs. That is, until I smelled it. Having been Piggle’s mom for 2+ years, I am well acquainted with his butt-stench, so I knew immediately that Sequel had nothing to do with this one. Well, not intentionally, anyway.

I figured I’d give Piggle a few minutes to finish up his business and change him when I was done whatever I was doing. Looking back, I wish I’d taken care of it much sooner. After another couple of minutes, he started shouting repeatedly about Sequel having a dirty poop. I finally decided to ease his concern and tackle the load in his pants in one shot.

I will never forget this moment for the rest of my life, nor will the horrific image of that instant ever leave my mind. Upon entering the room, I immediately noticed three things:

1: Piggle had, indeed, pooped…and his diaper was lying 4 feet away from him.

2: He had a very guilty look on his face.

and 3: (Get ready for it)…Poor Sequel, was lying helplessly on her mat, unable to escape the Piggle-attacks, covered (I’m not exaggerating) from head to toe in the boy’s poop.

In all honesty, I froze. I didn’t know what to do, say, or how to react. It was just one of those scenarios that simply doesn’t happen in real life…except mine.

While I’ve been lucky to have two incredible children and a really easy time of it, I can definitely do without Poo-casso running around.

OH. MY GAWD. HOW?! JUST. How? I hate poo. Like, almost phobic issues with poo. I barely made it out of the diaper ages with my sanity intact. If that had been me, either Sequel or Piggle would have been topped off with puke or I would have laugh cried, actually not sure how I would have handled that. What did you do?

Valerie

I am soooo relieved to hear I am not the only one who has dealt with this! Not that I wish it on anyone ever, but the fact that I am not the one who walked in and looked in shock as my 2 1/2 year old had decided to paint with poo!

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