A Sh!tty Morning

Mireille’s been home with us for two weeks today. Many of you are probably looking for some post that goes through that in some detail. This is not that post. I’m working up a larger post, but interestingly, going from two to three kids, and having that new kid be 3.5 years old, well, it changes how you can spend your time. Ah, material for another post. This post deals with an acute familial incident that happened to involve the entire family in one way or another…

It all started on Friday morning. I was working from home in hopes of getting some more time with my new daughter, and also to give Jenny a chance to have 10 minutes to do adult things once in awhile. In this connected world, my job is easy enough to do from pretty much wherever has an internet connection and a cell phone signal (well, mainly an internet connection).

I was working at the kitchen table while Mireille and Quinton ate breakfast, Quinton was also watching a show on Netflix - most likely Lab Rats or Kickin' It - a show that Jenny has absolutely no love for whatsoever.

At this point I should warn you, there are some gross elements of this story that might not agree with you if you have a weak constitution or if you’ve never had children. Last chance. I’m going to get graphic here…

Quinton had to go take care of a morning constitutional. The only bathroom on the main level is Ethan’s (this is the only way Ethan is involved in this story) and it has a tendency to clog, moreso than other toilets that I’ve encountered. Today, luck struck. After Quinton had finished and used about 3/4 of a roll of toilet paper, he called me in for an assist. It was messy… I took care of things to make sure he wouldn’t go to school all dirty and smelly.

After taking care of things, we attempted a flush to find that, somewhat predictably, the toilet was overwhelmed by the volume of waste and paper. This was going to be a mess, as I was going to have to plunge with the offending matter still in the bowl…

It was about this time that Mireille called out to me and said it was time for “kosumba,” which is Lingala for “I have to go poop.” Oh boy. So she came into the bathroom, took off all of her clothing from the waist down, and climbed aboard the toilet. I figured it should be fine - it would just be a little more matter in the toilet for when I had to plunge it, and better not let her wait too long or I’d be dealing with a filled underpants situation.

This trip was a false alarm, as most seem to be. Mireille likes to sit on the toilet, grab a couple of squares of toilet paper, pretend to wipe herself, then flush, and say “I flush it.” Before I could stop her, she had reached for the knob and flushed the toilet. Being clogged, the bowl basically just filled right to the top. It didn’t overflow, but boy was it close! Crap, this was going to be a bigger mess than I originally thought.

It was about this time that I looked down at the rug near the toilet and noticed something brown and slimy on there. Knowing there was no way to just pretend it wasn’t there, I dutifully put my finger in the substance so I could smell and ascertain what it actually was. Ah yes, more poop! Somehow on the rug… My mind raced - how could this be here? Quinton was an absolute disaster, so it could have been a stray patch of crap that made its way to the carpet. What state were his pants in now, though? What else could it be?

I yelled at Quin to come in here so I could check things out. After three or four calls to him, I see Mireille squatting out of the corner of my eye. Deal with that in a minute. First I had to figure out where this stray crap originated from.

After a quick inspection, I found out it was some dog crap on his shoe - he had been outside shooting baskets a little earlier that morning and he must have stepped in some of it and dragged it in to the house. It was fresh, though, and I needed to quickly clean it off of his shoes so he could wear them to school.

So outside I go to clean his shoes off. That task completed, I came back inside to find a horrific smell. What could that be now? My nose quickly directed me to my innocent looking daughter, standing in the kitchen. A quick whiff of her backside told me that she had finished her “kosumba” in her pants, sans diaper - she wears underwear…

Did I mention that during this whole time, I really had to go myself?

It was an interesting morning to say the least. Jenny’s involvement came while I was cleaning up Mireille and trying to find new pants for her to wear for the day. While she was surprised at what happened, she was hardly shocked. Just another day in paradise, I suppose…