Posts Tagged ‘baby bathtime; pooping in the tub’

All hail the pooper scooper

January 12, 2010

Something happened when I became a mother.  All those things that I could never imagine myself doing, I did.  I have tended to awful bouts of diaper rash.  I’ve suctioned out snot.  And, on the play front, I have sung the same song – no lie – 24 times straight to get my daughter to settle down for a nap.  But, last night, I earned new wings.

7:45 p.m. is Emory’s favorite time of day – bath time.  What’s not to love?  Splashing?  Good!  Toys?  Good.  Bubble bath?  Good!  So, with Em happy as a clam, I stepped into the other room to pick up toys, turn down her bed and pull out clean pajamas.

But, after about 3 minutes, it got really quiet.  Then, a whimper.  Puzzled, I walked back into the bathroom only to see my little nudie cutie standing straight up in the bathtub, which she knows is a “no no.”

“Emory, you sit right back down in that tub,” I commanded.  Normally, that’s all it takes.  But, not this time.  Plus, she had such a weird look on her face.  “Sit down, missy.”  Nothing.  Finally, I walked over to literally bend her little legs and make her sit.  Her beautiful hazel eyes beckoned me to save her from something awful.  But, what?  What could be so bad?

And, then I saw them … four little biscuit turds floating in the water.

Yep, she pooped in the tub.  I remember when my niece did this to my mother a few years back and I just rolled on the floor laughing. Well, yeah … it’s easy to laugh when it’s not happening to you.

Now, my challenge … Emory was clutching me for dear life.  No way on Earth was she going to sit back down in that tub until it was poop-free.  Can you blame her?  Second, with her grabbing on to me, I couldn’t leave to get the kitty litter scooper.  And then it hit me … I am going to have to retrieve these things BY HAND.

I felt my gag reflex coming on … something I picked up from my sister-in-law, Annie.  “C’mon, Brooke.  Cowboy up, babe!”

So, I took a deep breath and plunged my hand into the water.  I grabbed the first poop pebble and tossed it into the toilet.  Ick!  Did the same for #2 and #3.  Ick, ick!  Then, I went back for #4 and it was gone.  It was literally lost in a sea of bubbles.  So, with daughter clutching my left arm, I leaned into the tub and dunked my entire right arm into the tub.  With suds now reaching my armpits, I found the sucker, grabbed it and aimed for the commode.  Finally, with all turds now in the toilet, I flushed and sent them off to meet the Tidy Bowl Man.

Needless to say, bathtime ended promptly.  As I am drying Emory off, Tom traipses upstairs and says, “Need any help?”  Really, Tom?  Really?

But, I didn’t go there.  Instead, I simply said, “Yes, honey … could you take over?”  He took Emory and whisked her away to clean PJs, a delightful story and soothing lullaby.

I, on the other hand, opted for a LOOOOOOOOOOOOONG hand washing, followed by a date with a can of Comet!

Give me my damn wings!