Well, Shit.

Do you ever have one of those days where a terrible incident happens, and there had been a tiny clue beforehand that could have helped you avert the crisis if only you had been perceptive enough to realize it?

Today started out like any other day. Nathan and I got up at 7:30am, and he had a poopy diaper in the morning (the kid is a regular morning pooper - a detail that is important to remember later). We played on the floor, I fed him some meals, he napped, we visited my grandparents, etc etc. It was a pretty normal day. At 6:00pm, I decided to give him a bath. Usually, I bathe him in the afternoon but today we were busy all afternoon so I pushed his bath to the evening. Just a small tweak to his daily routine.

I filled up his little bathtub which hovered over the kitchen sink. Yes, we were still using that handy little tub that has gone through four cousins now. Nathan is a back archer, and I never know when he'll suddenly forcefully throw himself down on his back. For that reason, I can't just sit him up in the regular bathtub just yet. I tried using a mesh bath sling but boy did he hate it. I also can't get into the bathtub with him because I can't fathom how to get out of a slippery bathtub alone with a wet squirmy baby. Anyway, I digress. Our story leads us to Nathan's room where I'm about to take off his outfit and diaper.

Nathan let out a little fart. "Oh ho, you tooted, Nathan!" I chortled.

"Hmm....is there poop?" (Sidenote: when you are alone with your baby all day, you tend to vocalize all your thoughts to him). I quickly checked his diaper, but there was nothing.

"Nah, false alarm. Anyway, you're a morning pooper, aren't you bud?" I said cheerfully. In hindsight, this was my clue.

I stripped him down and plopped him in his baby bathtub. We played with the water and soap, I scrubbed him up and down. We sang bath songs, and I tickled his feet. I was about to flip him over onto his belly when I saw something between his legs. Something yellow-orangey.

SHIT!

I shrieked and scared Nathan half to death. I went into auto-pilot. First I lifted my shitty baby up in the air and ran back to his changetable. I wiped any poop I could find. I went to the bathroom sink and quickly re-washed him. I got him back onto the changetable where, to add insult to disgusting injury, he peed all over. ARGH! I diapered and dressed him. Now I had a plastic tub full of water and shit in my kitchen, and a baby who was bordering on tears from the sudden franticness of the situation. I plopped Nathan into his jumperoo and decided to empty out the tub o' shit into the toilet. Now this next part is gag-worthy. I think only a parent would know the special kind of consistency shit becomes when one's diet consists of baby formula, purees and finger food. It's a smelly semi-solid horror show when it's contained in a goddamned diaper, never mind in a tub full of lukewarm water.

Baby screaming in the background, I dumped the contents of the tub down the toilet. But of course it didn't all land in the toilet bowl. Of course it went spilling all around the toilet rim onto the floor due to the crappy design of the tub (pun fully intended). Once emptied, I looked at the baby tub and decided to throw it away. No amount of bleach or disinfectant would ever convince me to use it again. Since it was borrowed, I would buy a replacement tub tomorrow. Baby still wailing, I cleaned up and disinfected everything I could think of.

An hour later when Jay came home from hockey, he asked me how my day went. I gave him the Cole's Notes version, and he said brightly "Well, at least you can blog about it."

Sigh. And to think this morning when I woke up, I had no idea the things I would end up doing. Oh, the joys of parenthood...

I think I'll have a glass (or bottle) of wine tonight.

A very little bit of solace comes from the fact that I know I'm not the first parent to experience this. But oh God, this had better be the only time.

In happier times