Finger Painting With Poo Poo

Warning: Although I promise not to post any pictures, this post is not for the fainthearted!

All I needed were some wipes...baby wipes. We had run out in Jade's room so I proceeded to Lily's room to retrieve the pack I had recently opened. It wasn't where I had left it. When I do find it and pick it up, it is completely empty. Hmmm....then I see a pile of used wipes next to Lily's bed. I decide to turn on the light for further investigation. They are truly used. I'm talking a full pack of 88 wipes! Most of them are covered with brown streaks. NO, Surely NOT, it COULDN'T be POO POO!!! Oh yuck. Then I start to smell it. I pull back her comforter and a TURD rolls out. OMGosh! LILY! LILY! Get yourself up here RIGHT NOW! For some reason she doesn't come very quickly so I start to look a little further. There are 3 pull-ups in various stages of use scattered on the floor. A stack of clean ones lay in her bed. Then I notice smears of poo...just like brown finger paint...all over her precious pink pillowcase. I've always loved the colors pink and brown together. A real favorite of mine actually...I'll never think of it the same. It didn't end there though. Apparently she was enjoying her artwork so much that she needed a fresh canvas...her white bedrails were her choice. Then to top it all off, a few more smears on her lime green bedside table. I have to hand it to her...I like green and brown together as well.

Lily arrived in her room. WHAT is this MESS? She tells me that she knows how to change her own pull-up now. After some pretty severe counseling on how she will not ever do that again, I start to think of how this even happened. I can count on one hand the number of times this child has even gotten out of bed without me being there...seriously...less than 5 times in the entirety of her 3 years, 4 months, 2 weeks and 5 days on this earth. But all of a sudden today she gets out of bed to change her own poopie? How didn't I hear it? I heard her doing her usual talking before falling asleep at naptime. I had heard a few songs and reenactments of her favorite parts of The Ariel Movie (known to others as The Little Mermaid), and then it got quiet. Which means she slept on that yucky pillowcase.....barf-ola! I honestly don't know how I missed all the poopie changing action over the monitor. What is even crazier is that her father didn't notice anything being amiss when he got her up after nap. How anyone could have missed all of that is just beyond me...I mean the smell alone...ugh.

I hope some of the 88 wipes had been used to clean her hands. It was those same hands that later helped me prepare dinner and also caressed her baby sister's face. I did have her wash her hands before she helped me with dinner, but it wasn't the sort of boiling hot, skin removing, scrub down that I would have done if I had known they had been covered in poopie just moments before!

Please excuse me. I am headed to Costco to get the largest size of industrial full strength BLEACH they offer. If you don't see me for a while, it is because I am still scouring my house. When you do see me, you'll at least know why I will be omitting brown color combos from my wardrobe.

***Footnote***
Lily's tenderhearted father just read this post and wanted me to make certain that everyone knew our daughter isn't the type to 'play' with poo, that she was clearly just trying to clean off her fingers on the previously mentioned 'canvases'...apparently 88 wipes were not enough!

***I am on a quick (hopefully, at least) blogging break/potty training sabbatical. In the meantime, I'm posting some fun and some not so fun...okay, none of them were fun, potty training moments.***

This was originally posted February 12, 2008.

Please leave me a comment...I'll still be checking in and keeping up with your blogs too. I just need to refrain from posting right now...I don't need any more poop on my blog.

Because shin splints would be too normal

You'll never hear me claim to be in super good shape. I do make random attempts, in even more random intervals, to get in better shape, but it seems like just when I get in the swing of a routine, something happens. Geez...I hope the comma police don't come after me for that sentence.

We do belong to a gym. It is great. It is close to home. It has three levels of all sorts of equipment. It has nice people. It has other mommy flab syndrome sufferers. It has a smoothie bar. And best of all, it has KidsClub. KidsClub is just a cute way of saying, "We'll take care of the chillins while you go sweat it out." Or while you take an extended rest on the bicycle in front of HGTV. Whatever works. Who said the "cool down" period is only 5 minutes?

Once Jade was old enough, we really did get into the swing of going to the club. Jerry and I viewed our visits as "mini-dates" in a strange way. I could yap his head off while we did cardio next to each other. Soon he discovered Fox News and got headphones though. That's okay. I wasn't offended. Really.

We're too cheap for cable around here, and while news shows aren't my thing, I decided to reconnect with MTV. Wow. No wonder my dad got rid of that channel when we were kids.

Our routine was working perfectly. Something had to throw it off. Sadly that event happened back in late May. So, for the past little while, Lily hasn't been able to go to KidsClub. Our mini dates have stopped. Jerry also changed jobs, became super disciplined, and leaves the house at 5AM to work out every day. Which translates to: Jerry is no longer my workout buddy. Sniff.

Lily has recently been released from the doctor, but before heading back to the club I decided to hit the pavement. Completely out of the blue...random I tell you...I decided last week to grab my cell phone and take a walk in the late evening. I did a fast paced walk three nights in a row. And more importantly, my sister and I got some serious phone time in.

Cell phones equate safety, right? I probably wouldn't have noticed anyone approaching me for all the yapping, but at least Kelly could have reported where I was.

Do you notice a trend here? Apparently I cannot exercise my body without also exercising my mouth. Don't get jealous over my nice jawline.

The morning after the 3rd late night, fast paced, talking storm of a walk, there was a problem. As I descended the stairs on a quick jaunt to make the java before retrieving the chillins, my ankle just didn't work right. It didn't want to stretch, or point, or flex, or whatever else it had to do to make it down the stairs.

Painful. The only way I can describe it is that it feels like a shin splint, but in the ankle. Ankle splint? According to Google that is only something you can buy to wear, not a condition of the ankle. Hello Google, I have the first ankle splint ever. And it hurts.

I guess since my mouth is already warmed up for exercise, I never thought I really needed to warm up my ankles for a stinkin' walk. It's just a walk. Not like I'm training for marathons over here.

Jerry even offered to massage the pain away. It was too painful. I do not turn down foot massages. But I flinched every time he even went near my ankle. I am such a wimp.

Has anyone else experienced this? I need a remedy. Quick.

It is affecting my life in all areas.

Like sleep. I have done the mid-night stretch and point thing a couple of times. Only twice to be exact. Ouch. How my "injury" escaped my mind at 3AM is beyond me.

Then tonight we met for the quick $1.50 hot dog/coke dinner at Costco. We were a mess. Just picture ketchup on faces, Lily riding in the baby stroller (they don't have high chairs so we brought it for Jade...after all she is the BABY, but LILY wanted in it...go figure), Jade wanting to be carried, Jade being carried, and one of us pushing a big honkin' cart around with one lonely box of baby wipes in it.

By the time we got to the van I could tell it wasn't going to be a fun ride home.

Then I remembered. We met there. Jerry's car was there. I had a key to said car. So, I did the only thing that made sense. I let Jerry have some quality bonding time with the girls in the van while I opted to ride home solo in the Honda.

I pretended that Jerry was rolling his eyes at someone else and went to find the car. I hopped in, turned the radio OFF, and got ready to back out. Then I remembered. The clutch. The clutch that required me to extend, point, flex, and move my ankle in ways that it didn't want to be moved.

I thought, briefly thought, about calling Jerry and aborting my plan. But the silence. Oh the silence. I'm a sucker for silence. So, after contemplating driving in second gear all the way home, I painfully got through it.

I'm thinking about creating a Wikipedia page dedicated to ankle splints...the condition...not the product. Do you think I have a case?