When the shit hits the floor

There are moments in motherhood when it really feels like your life could be fodder for a frat boy comedy. By which I mean that potential bodily fluids jokes abound.

Take last night for instance.

We had driven up to Palo Duro Canyon (second largest canyon in the U.S.!) for a hike.
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One the way back Nico and Marta fell asleep in the car while I listened to an Emma Thompson interview on Fresh Air. All was well in the world.

But once we got home, Marta started feeling bad. Really bad. She went to bed. Meanwhile, Nico started getting grumpy, really grumpy. She was hungry and ready for bed. I heated her up some acorn squash that I’d just baked, but she wasn’t having it. Every time I gave her a bit she screwed up her face and whined. Marta, who was passing by on her way from the bed to the kitchen, said she thought she might have a dirty diaper. So I picked Nico up, mid-dinner, and went to check.

She didn’t have a dirty diaper. But, as I’d already taken off her diaper and I was going to give her a bath right after dinner, I decided it didn’t make sense to put another diaper on her. So I carried her back to the table and put her in my lap to try to get her to finish the squash she so hated.

I was spooning some squash mixed with oatmeal into her mouth when the chaos began. I heard Marta suddenly jump up from the bed and run toward the bathroom, where she began vomiting. I wanted to do something to help her, but couldn’t because I had Nico in my lap and the half-eaten squash in front of us.

Then Nico started making a certain sound, a well-known sound, a sound that she makes only when she is doing one thing. The sound I am talking about is a grunt. And what it means is that, yes, she’s pooping.

I held her up in my lap and saw the poop coming up. I then jumped up and ran toward the changing table. Midway there, the poop fell to the ground. I kept running. Finn ran over to investigate the poop. Marta was vomiting. I ran back to try to save the poop from becoming Finn’s dinner. Marta rallied, stopped vomiting and said she’d get the poop. I ran to put a diaper on Nico (now, not really necessary). Marta got the poop, brave soldier. And Finn lookd slightly disappointed.

So that was my Sunday night. What about you all?

3 thoughts on “When the shit hits the floor

  1. When you were a baby I took you to a neighborhood tea — I was new in the neighborhood and dying to meet some adults. I wore my favorite white skirt. All I can say is that you made that noise Nico made with similar results!

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  2. No poop on my floor on Sunday night but as I was reading this post my old dog started her poop outside and finished on the kitchen floor. It was probably to damn cold for her to stand outside for any length of time. Hope today was better for you.

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