This Stinks

I don’t know what I did in my past life to have ‘poo’ as a reoccurring theme over the last years. I need to find a super naturalist, regressionist, hypnotherapist or an astrologist to learn why I constantly have to deal with poo situations! I can only think it has to be due to my past life. Is this a step up or is it a sentence for wrong doings? Either way, it stinks.

Adam and I are not pushing potty training. I think we should revisit this idea a-sap. I understand that we all get viruses. Our systems need cleaned out. Whatever the reason every person has experienced it. In the last six days Kaden has had diarrhea. He will go through a diaper every 30 minutes come the evening- 3-7pm we will change 6 or more diapers. I cannot be upset and am not upset about this. I feel for the guy, after all, it is uncomfortable for all of us. All kidding aside I do empathize and feel terrible for him each time I have to change his diaper. I dread it. I feel as though I am making him uncomfortable and brining him harms not the diaper and acid against his bum.

Kaden has a real interest in the potty. He strips down and with pride wants to sit on his potty. This last week I have caught him on multiple occasions disrobing for the potty. Immediately I yell, “STOP!” I know in that last Velcro of the diaper more is going to drop than his drawers. Here I am telling him not to pee-pee in on his potty, but last week I was making it a conversation throughout the day. What confusion he must feel.

Anyway, I go upstairs to get him after his morning nap. I open the door. It smells. I see my son squatting in the far left corner of his crib holding his knees trying to keep his balance. He isn’t saying Mama, but, “Gois”. I turn the light on and see not only a hunched over toddler, but a naked hunched over toddler. “Kaden Adam! Did you go poo in your bed?” He replies, “Uh-huh” as he hold out his hands. There is the proof… as if a puppy had been in bed with him a pile was right by his foot. He had obviously touched it and then grabbed his foot. I have been dreading the day. And it arrived: he played in his poo.

I am in a panic. What do I do with him? Ding-ding: the bath tub.
I hold him out in front of me like a spoiled bag of garbage. I spray him down with the showerhead. He is in pure dislike. He wants a bath. Negative. We have a job to do and this entails get him cleaned, sanitize the tub and crib, remove and wash all bedding, inspect the walls and floor of his room and get out of there.
I wonder aloud why we have recurring poo incidents in our home. I never thought Kaden would get to a point that he could enjoy a leisure bath instead of one ending in bleach disinfecting. To think there are careers that focus on fecal matter. They would feel so fortunate to visit our home, yet, I want to escape it!
All is clean and in good order.

I grab Ashton out of his swing. This has to be a joke! He had a blow out in his diaper into his onsie and pants. As I am changing him Kade brings me one of his own diapers. No joke- pooping mutiny on my hands. “Lay down, Kade. Mom will be right back.” All I can do to keep my sanity is keep changing the diapers. I figure if I am doing this and keeping with my daily responsibilities I have not lost it yet! But, man it stinks. I still cannot help wonder what I did to warrant all this poo.