With 7 loads of laundry being only half done from yesterday I knew I had to break down and continue with it today which of course included the dreaded folding. Why when doing laundry its the folding and putting it all away that is always the worst part of the process? (At least it is for me). Since I hate folding and putting away with such a passion I decided to just take the baskets up stairs and fold the laundry on my bed because then I would only be steps away from closets and dressers.
While I am folding my son and daughter requested a snack which a snack to them is a warm sippy cup of milk. So once they were set up with milks, blankets and their favorite show Olivia I knew I could escape for a few to get to the unpleasant task at hand.
Before I started to fold my phone rang and it was my good friend calling to confirm that she was indeed coming down to my house in two weeks for a girl’s night of wine and jewelry. While talking party details and sleeping arrangements we got off topic and talked about family, kids and husbands for about the next 45 minutes all the while I am leaving my kids supervision to Nick Jr.
OK now that my procrastination of folding has put me back an hour, I must get it done, right? I head back to my bedroom where the laundry is still sitting in a pile just waiting for my arrival and still there is silence in the basement. I am pretty sure at any given moment I will hear my daughter shriek with anger followed by my sons antagonizing laughter, but nope, silence. Any normal mother would be much more worried about this lengthy silence and go and check on the quiet situation but no I had to get laundry folded. I had folded and put away 3 large loads of clothes so the next step was to remake the bed with the clean sheets. Since we received a newer, thicker, heavier mattress for Christmas putting the sheets on by myself is a bit of a challenge but I managed to lift up the corners and did my best to create hospital corners with the amount of sheet I had to work with. Next came the reapplication of the comforter and then the pillow cases. All in all the phone call, the folding and the sheets took about hour and half and still silence.
Finally the silence was broken when I heard the tiny anxious voice of my daughter say “Mommy!?” from the stairs. I called back “Yeah?” she said “I poop” I told her “Come here and we’ll change your diaper” but when she arrived in my room she was diaper less. My eyes went wide and my voice went from normal tone to a tone that only dogs may have been able to hear, saying “WHERE’S YOUR DIAPER!?”. She was very nonchalant and said “I nunno!” Which could have only meant one thing, it was sitting downstairs, full of poop.
I flew down the steps and before my feet hit the basement floor I could smell the unpleasant truth that she indeed had pooped. The first thing I saw besides the room being destroyed with toys and pillows from the couch strewn about, was a tiny piece of poop laying on one of those aforementioned strewn pillows. As I began to scan the room looking for the missing diaper I saw my son hiding and trying his hardest not to laugh under his Thomas the Train blanket. I told him now is not the time to hide but to tell me where the diaper was. I didn’t have to finish my question to him when I found the diaper and the trail of poop that lead to it. Unbeknownst to me there was poop in the OSU blanket I flung on to the adjacent chair because I heard plop, plop on the ground and yet more poop. I was ugh-ing and bleck-ing the whole time I’m picking up and finding more pieces.
I was also explaining, maybe a little louder then I needed to, to my two year old that when she poops she needs to come up and mommy will take her diaper off for her and to never do this again! Mind you my 4 year old is still hiding and laughing under his blanket. Finally I figured he’s laughing at something other than the situation at hand and I tore the blanket off of him to find that he had commandeered my netbook. But even more horrible then him taking an expensive electronics device was the fact that underneath that blanket with him was two big pieces of poop.
I snatched the blanket and his clothes and threw them in the wash in case he was laying on poop and then proceeded to wash his hands and face. I was so digusted for him that I turned back to my daughter and started to loudly explain again that taking off her poopy diaper was wrong and that I was the only one to ever take her diapers off. She said in her meek tone “OK”.
So with the poop picked up, hands washed and diapers back on bums it was time for dinner and much deserved baths. As the children are in the tub I recalled my pooper scooper experience and made a mental note to never, ever go that long with silence coming from the basement.
God Bless~Andrea
