I try not to swear too often, and usually reserve the 'S' word for stubbing my toe, or particularly bad news. But here I mean it in the literal sense - we had a very shitty evening last night.
I need to preface this by saying we have had a long, arduous journey getting our now 3 year old to poop regularly. As early as 6 months, she would wait 3 weeks to poop, but the doctor said she was fine. After a couple years, a lot of tears, and a few posts about it, we're finally at the point where she goes semi-regularly, sans suppository. We're not neglectful parents. We feed her so much fiber, and so little animal, that I cannot understand why it's turned out this way. She starts the day with ground-up flaxseed in her yogurt, we force her to chug prune juice, and we are a die-hard dried fruit eating family. It doesn't add up.
Anyway, last night around dinner time (of black beans and sweet potato, no less), I noticed she was acting funny, doing her little dance, and saying her tummy hurt. No amount of cajoling would get her to sit on the potty. That's when I had to put her there by force. Meanwhile, Avi (who has nooooo problem pooping 2-3 times a day), is stuck in her highchair, screaming like a banshee, and emptying the contents of her bowl on her head. Screams are coming from Nourit as I force a suppository up her bum (oh, the joys of motherhood), and from Avi as I'm neglecting her. Finally, Nourit poops, we flush and wash, and she assumes the couch potato position while I put in an opera for her to watch. (Yes, we bribe our kids with opera dvds.)
Back to Avi, to wash off all the bean crud from her hands and head, then back to Nourit who is still looking like she's in pain (and it's not from the Queen of the Night's high notes.) Back to the potty, tears streaming down her little 3 year old face (and nearly on mine.) Another HUGE poop, which, incidentally, is too big to flush down and comes back up. I flush a second time.
At this point, I decide to dunk these children in a warm, calming bubble bath, which seems to do the trick. Halfway through, Avi looks like she could do her duty, so I carry her, dripping, over to Nourit's potty seat. We are definitely not potty training her at this age, but I know she has fun when she gets to walk in Nourit's shoes (or sit in Nourit's potty seat!) She makes some fake grunting noises and faces, then motions back to the tub, so back she goes. Then, Nourit is ready to come out first, so I get her into pajamas and brush her teeth while Avi continues to splash and make little tooting noises. But wait, those aren't toots. SHE POOPED IN THE BATHTUB! My freshly scrubbed bathtub! (The cleaning lady had left only hours before.) Yuck! Not only that, the tub is having trouble draining, and the plumber hadn't come to fix it yet. Double yuck!
Somehow, I get both children, clean and warm, into bed and to sleep. I wash the tub as best I can, and dump half a bottle of rubbing alcohol in the bottom. Mike comes home from his meeting, we quickly swap stories, and I sit down to work on my lesson plan for Music Together. I say to Mike that our house still smells faintly of poop, thinking it's just a holdover from the evening's activities. I go in Nourit's room to kiss her goodnight, and realize she pooped in her pajamas while she slept. We drag her out of bed to clean her up, and as I flush that final nugget down the toilet, it overflows. Right onto the freshly mopped floor.
Epilogue: I put a huge load of towels and poopy underpants in the washer with double detergent, and re-mop the bathroom floor. Finally, my pajamas are on, my contacts are out, and my teeth are brushed (but I can't use the toilet because Mike hasn't plunged it yet.) I stumble out of the bathroom to make that request, only to stub my toe on the toy car that's in the middle of the hallway. "Wheeeee, let's go for a ride!" a warped woman's voice screeches as I dive for the Off button. Shit!