I don't remember exactly when we first established survival mode in our home, but it's been a sanity saver. Every parent has times like these. Whether they have one child or twelve. When I realize its time for survival mode, my priorities change. I focus on simplicity. Keep the kitchen manageable and do laundry. Sometimes that means we use a lot of paper plates and eat a lot of sandwiches and mac n cheese. Or that there are several piles of laundry waiting to be folded on the couch. That's ok. We're surviving.
Today, life finally clicked over a bit and we've managed to get the house clean, some school done and constructive play with the littles. It's been a blessing. There's a lot more to be done. I'll take it one day at a time.
On the funny side....I've dealt with way more than my fair share of poop lately. Here's one of several stories that I've been meaning to write:
Poop Armageddon
I should have known it would be one of those days when I arose to the cat hacking up her first hairball on the living room rug. Blithely, I went about preparing breakfast for the ravening hordes and sending David off to grocery shop with Danae and Devin. I will admit I laughed when I got a text from David.
" Well, I sent Devin with Danae to look at toys and he pooped his pants. Danae took him to the bathroom herself before calling me so I can't get to him."
By the way. Never laugh at someone else's hilariously difficult situation. You will pay for it.
Lunch time came around, and i started my cherished pot of afternoon coffee. I poured a cup and began the wait for it to turn from scalding to mearly hot. I cut a generous slice of brownie to go with it. Chuy came to me with his afternoon "nasty". Waddling as if his diaper held a toxic corrosive, he wimpered and began to proclaim, "nasty mama! Nasty!" And it was. The pervasive leak required nothing less than a full hose down. To the bathroom we went Well, I sent Devin with Danae to look at toys and he pooped his pants. Danae took him to the bathroom herself before calling me so I can't get to him. .
Still in high spirits (after all, my coffee should be ready by the time i was done), I cleaned chuy up and decided to run a bath for him to play in. Tony came by and wanted to join up. No problem. They began to splash and play as I got a text from David.
"Do we have any yogurt?"
A quick check revealed we did. And provided Tony just enough time to begin hollering my name.
Chuy, "Momma! NASTY!"
I rounded the corner to find tony had laid some floaters in the tub. Great. Fish them out. Flush them down. Drain, hose down, rerun some water. Chuy was ready to get out anyway. I took him to the couch to dry off.
"MOMMA"
I sighed and finished fastening Chuy's diaper. Guess Tony didn't want to keep playing after all. My coffee could wait another minute. I popped back into the bathroom to find the Chernobyl of toddler poop. In the water. On the walls. Over the side of the tub. And Tony standing there saying, "I pooped, Mom! I get a candy now?"
Smothering my gag reflex and wishing I had a hazmat suit, I waded into the mess and began disaster relief measures. About half way through, one of my other kids came dashing through, demanding a bathroom. I directed them around the corner to Danae's bathroom. Five minutes later, they returned to tell me that her toilet was clogged.
"And I had diarrhea. "
I had nothing to say. Staring at the freshly bleached boys bathroom, and unwilling to bring my treasured coffee into another contaminates zone, I headed for Danae's bathroom. In the time it took to plunge the toilet, my two resourceful toddlers had taken my brownie and most of the rest of the pan of brownies and spread them from the kitchen, through the livingroom, down the hallway and into their bedroom. They cheerfully set about dusting their room with dark chocolate crumbs and tucking brownie bites into little nooks for later. It took me the better part of 30 minutes to clean. The babies went to bed immediately thereafter.
Finally having a moment, I headed to the bathroom myself. Only to find my dog peeing on my sitting room floor.
The only thing I could think was, "I've got to write this story. You can't make up stuff like this!" I settled down to cold coffee and brownie crumbs and watched a movie instead.
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