Sorry for the crude title, but that's how I feel right now. I wasn't going to bore you with the gory details, but then I decided that, if only one person felt sorry for me, then it would all be worth it. And hey, it's my page anyway and if I can't vent here, where can I?
On with the show...
Today, I went to a friend's to help her out with babysitting. She keeps three kids in her home. They are 3, 2 and tiny. I've done it before and it's really not a big deal. The busiest time is lunchtime and even that isn't much more hectic than lunchtime at my own home. Plus, I can always use an extra buck or two, so sometimes I look forward to her asking me to help.
I regret ever thinking that after today.
All was going well until after lunchtime. That would be nap time. The baby and the 2 year old went down with no trouble. The three year old was a different story. First, he stalled on going potty. I finally had to carry him in there and stand by the door and told him he couldn't come out until he went. I have no idea if he really did go, but he flushed the potty and came out and told me he went. I took him into the room where he naps and laid him down. He told me no. I said yes. I told him not to get up and then I left, shutting the door behind me. A few minutes later, I heard banging. I went in and he was jumping on the bed. Again, I told him to lay down. He did. I left.
Meanwhile, Rhett was smelling sorta ripe, so I changed him. Very poopy diaper. While I was changing him, I heard Mr. No Nap banging around again. I checked on him. He was upside down in the bed, with all the covers all over the floor. I reminded him of the rules and walked out. As I stepped out into the hall I thought "Hmmm, it sure smells a lot better out here in the hall than it did in that room." Not wanting to even imagine what the smell in that room was, I kept going. But then guilt overtook me and I went back.
This time, the smell hit me like a ton of bricks. The only smell that actually becomes an entity the longer it sits. Poop. On a 3 year old child who is not my own. Dammit. Dammitdammitdammitdammit. I did NOT want to clean it up. I said "Joe (not his real name), are you poopy?" He looked at me with a smug grin and said "Yep." And then I walked toward him. It was EVERYWHERE. On the sheets, on the WALLS, all up and down his legs. I didn't know what to do. I stripped him, bagged the t-shirt and shorts, rinsed the undies out in the toilet and then threw them in the trash. I put him in the shower, squirted two huge handfuls of soap into his hands and said "Scrub everything you can reach." I don't really know how people feel about other people giving their children baths and showers, so I just decided to play it safe and let him do it. I left him in there for at least 1o minutes while I scrubbed the walls, the bathroom floor, the toilet and put the sheets in the wash.
I went back in when I felt like, even if he hadn't scrubbed all the necessary parts, the water had to have washed him clean.
I got him out, dried him off, dressed him in his spare clothes and said, "I know you thought that, by pooping in your pants, you would get out of napping, but I don't work that way. You are going back. And if you get out of that bed, I'm calling your mom."
I'm not proud that I said it in a 3rd grade "nah, nah, nah, nah, nah" tone, or that I resorted to tattling, but I wasn't feeling too kind at that moment.
He never came out again. It's a good thing too, because I don't know his mom's number.
Anyway...I went back out to the living room to scrub my hands and arms with hot water and to check on my own children. I felt as though poop was emanating from my pores. I could smell it everywhere. I sat down, trying to relax. The smell would NOT go away. I picked Rhett up. The smell was worse. Poopy again? Diaper check. No poop. Have I got poop on my face? Mirror check. No. Where could it be coming from??????
I look down. It's on Rhett's hands. And the sofa. Apparently, when I changed him, he got his hands in it and I didn't notice, because I was so busy thinking of a punishment for Mr. No Nap Shitpants. Thankfully, it seemed only to be on his hands and the sofa, which is leather. It wasn't so bad. But what are the odds of two poopy accidents in one day? I guess with 5 kids and me, it's probably something like 2 to 1. Oh well...you know what they say. Shit happens.
(You know I had to say it.)