Just another "They owe me" story

Today is my birthday. For the most part it is a regular day: OT in the morning, preschool in the afternoon. Ken is cooking me one of my favorite meals tonight: steamer clams. But until he walks in the door and we open that bottle of wine it's a regular day.

One "regular day" tradition is turning on TV for the kids so I can shower. It usually doesn't work; Michael loves to shower with me and will strip naked in half a millisecond if he hears the water running. Laurel, on the other hand, is still petrified of showers, so not only do I get one child in the stall with me, I have another one opening and closing the door yelling, "Hi!!!"

It's very meditative.

Anyway, Michael and I were showering this morning when Laurel opened the door to inform me she had pooped in her diaper and needed me to clean her up. Course, I was wet and soapy, and had Michael to deal with as well, so I told her she'd have to wait just a minute, that I would hurry up and finish so I could clean her up. This was not a lie - nothing makes a mother move faster than the idea of having to shampoo poop off her carpets before 8am.

But alas, I was not fast enough. A minute later Laurel reopened the shower door, naked except for her pink snow hat. She proudly handed me a diaper wipe covered in poop.

"Warwah keen poops!!!" she exclaimed.

And I had a decision to make: leave the shower (still soapy and wet) and go clean her up in the typical diaper-changing fashion, or despite her well-documented terror of spraying water, bring Laurel into the shower with me and clean her in there. I paused, and then swooped her inside. "This is just going to have to be one of those Teachable Moments," I thought to myself.

SCREAMING.

Now, our shower is small (3' in diameter) and it was a bit crowded with three people inside. I stood Laurel on the floor, got the removable shower head down and started spraying her backside with it. Since she was clinging to my neck in abject terror, I couldn't really tell how extensive the mess was. But she had shown me a dirty wipe, so I vaguely deduced she was basically clean. It was only when I put my hand on her bottom to rub some soap on the area that I felt the poop. In my hand. Breaking into chunks and falling onto the shower floor. Pooling at my toes.

"Teachable Moment" indeed...FOR ME

Michael saw the poop, started yelping, and pushed his way to the far corner of the shower. I, of course, panicked and used the sprayer to propel the pieces down the drain. But, there was still her butt, which I couldn't see since she was squeezing my neck and screaming at the top of her lungs. So, with no other option, I USED MY BARE HAND to scoop the poop out of her butt crack. Again. And again. And again.

Happy Birthday to me!