Stomach Bug Blues

I’ve gotta get it out. 

My oldest boy has the poops.
I don’t have the poops, that’s not what I gotta get out.

I know I’m not the only one, I know this isn’t the last time this’ll happen, I know this isn’t even the worst thing I’ll have to deal with and I know this is a blessing compared to illness that other people’s kids have. 

My boy’s stomach bug has brought me to a new level of —for lack of a more eloquent description of insanity— “patient mommy-ness” this week:

I wake up: Lexington poop. clean it. change his clothes, cause it’s everywhere. apply A&D ointment. wash hands. 
I brush my teeth, wash my face:  another Lexington poop. clean it. apply A&D Ointment. Wash hands.
I groggily and anxiously brew my coffee: more poop. clean it. apply A&D. Wash hands.
Emmett awakes, with his own poop:  clean it. wash hands.
I feed Emmett.
I feed Lexington from his now limited menu option, about which he is vocally not happy.
I eye my coffee pot with longing.
Poop: Clean it. wash hands.
SUCK DOWN COFFEE LIKE MY LIFE DEPENDS UPON IT!
Emmett hungry again: feed him, while detecting odor of dirty diaper from Lexington.
Urge Lexington to drink liquids: He wants milk, cannot have it, throws fit.

NAP TIME!!!!!!!!!

“okay, Carolyn… you have one hour to do things that need to be done!”
I drink more coffee and take a breather instead. 
FINISH-OFF COFFEE POT. 

Lexington wakes up exactly 1 hour later.  With a poop.
Give Lexington bath: because at this point, his diaper rash is so bad that he screams every time a gentle breeze touches his raw skin.
Emmett awakes: Feed him bottle while Lexington bathes.
Dry Lexington.
Feed Lexington Rice.
Feed Emmett.
I EAT CHEESE STICK.
Oh, more poop. joy: clean it, amidst diaper rash screams. Apply A&D Ointment along with Bordreaux’s Rash Protector. wash hands.

Now it’s time to think of dinner: Oh wait- I haven’t.  

Late afternoon continues on with a minimum of 2 more poops and clean-ups and clothes changes. 
REPEAT EACH DAY ALL WEEK LONG.
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Today is Thursday and my hands literally have cracks in them from the constant washing and soap.  Every time I apply lotion, I have to wash them again,
I was brought to my hair-pulling point last night when my husband had a business-venture buddy come over to talk business-y stuff in the basement while I burnt the frozen pizza upstairs amidst trying to clean up a diaper catastrophe. 

I kept seeing what looked like white cotton balls laying on the floor.  I kept picking them up and throwing them away asking Lexington where he got them. But he’d been standing in the kitchen with me the whole time so I was flummoxed as to how they were appearing out of thin air.  
I picked another, larger cotton-y looking thing, took a closer look and saw the little absorbent balls that I recognized are contained within the structure of a diaper.
My eyes scavenging the rest of the kitchen, discovered the floor to be littered with the insides of Lexington’s dirty diaper, on which Emmett was crawling.

I was simply delighted!! 

[SARCASM].

I placed Emmett in his crib, threw Lexington in the bathtub, and vacuumed furiously. I mopped with wrath. 
An eternity of a half-hour later, the babies were both playing in the living room, clean and content while I was on the brink of pulling my hair out of my head.

Craig’s business buddy came a half-hour early (just as rude as coming late) and didn’t leave until 9pm.  I wouldn’t normally feel as angry as I then did about the lengthy meeting but I wanted some fresh air.

As soon as Craig emerged, I grabbed the car keys and left. To Target I went.
This, to me, is hilarious.  I’ve discovered that Target is the escape for all other moms as well.

Proof of it was delivered to me on a obnoxious platter of two raucous sounding women with clunky heels who seemed to be following me through the store the hour I was there.  It honestly didn’t bother me so much, except for the loud harsh laughing.
But my heart melted in the cookie aisle as I heard them the next aisle over talking:

“I’m sorry if I’m annoying you with my non-stop chatter, Sarah… Can you tell I don’t get out much?”
“Trust me, I don’t care at all… you get out of the house without your kids even less than I do, and that’s not much!”

I wanted to stick my head over and say, ‘hey it sounds like I should be with you girls!’ but my recent experience of conversing AT strangers made me think twice and just sigh in sympathy.
They ARE out there, other moms like me. —Actually they’re not OUT there, they’re IN their homes with their children.  

As they SHOULD BE.

It’s a good thing a mom does. Sacrifice her time and comfort.
But it’s also a great thing for a mom to go to Target and buy some cookies.

Now, onto round two of child number two.  Yep, Emmett’s got the poops as of today. HOORAY! :)

PS» Bordreaux’s RASH PROTECTOR is the culprit in the diaper malfunction.  It disintegrates the lining of the diaper and thus, the innards and all bodily waste fall upon the floor.  NOW I KNOW.  Hopefully you do too!