Seriously, this post will gross you out if you can't handle a poop conversation. And a gross one at that. . . So you've been warned.
We have this sort-of rule at our home. I do the poop and Jason does the vomit. I don't like the poop, but I don't feel like pooping just because I'm cleaning up poop (how many times can a girl use the word poop in a single sentence?!?). I can't say the same thing for vomit. I don't like human or dog vomit, and I'm likely to go get Jason out of bed if the dog throws up in the house in the early morning hours, rather than clean it myself (which, come to think of it, means that Jason owes me because last weekend, the dog did throw up in the house twice and I cleaned it up both times!).
Anyway, it's been a bit poopy around our house. On Friday morning, Casey woke me up telling me he had to poop. And poop he did. Gross, stinky, light brown diarrhea -- into the toilet (thankfully). Unfortunately, his pajama top was on the long-ish side, which meant it didn't fair to well. And so I cleaned it up. Casey tried to make it to the bathroom the second time he had to go-- I actually think he thought he was just going to pass gas, but it turned out to be something more. So underwear and shorts had to have a good scrub-down, too. I took him to his OT, which was only 30 minutes. But he needed to go again as soon as he was done with the therapist. The elementary school has a strict rule prohibiting any adults from being in any of the kids' bathrooms. I didn't have time to walk Casey to the other side of the school and use the adult bathroom because I knew he wouldn't hold it. So I sent him into the boys' restroom at the school to fend for himself. I don't know what I was thinking. Of course he was going to need help wiping. In fact, I saw him waddle out of the stall, pants around his ankles, asking for help-- standing in the middle of the bathroom. I wasn't about to leave him standing there, so in I went-- into the boys' bathroom. On my knees, I helped wipe in down, step out of his Thomas underwear (which hadn't escaped some yuck), and snuck out. But not before another little boy came in and used a urinal. Guess he wasn't too concerned about me being there. And no, I didn't see anything.
Needless to say, we kept Casey home from school on Friday. My parents came into town, and he seemed to be doing better. I chalked it up to something he'd eaten. He was fine all day Saturday, though he didn't eat much-- and he turned down chocolate cake.
But then, in the middle of the night, I guess around 3am, he woke up my parents with his crying. He had crapped in his diaper some time in the middle of the night-- and then it got caked in. Until he moved, which is when it rubbed onto all his clothes and maybe the comforter. My mom cleaned him up and put him to bed-- and all this happened without me hearing a thing! When I went in the following morning, he had my parents' comforter over him and a change of clothes.
Sunday was much like Friday. He had no appetite. He didn't even want the pizza at Red Robin, which is his very favorite food. Sunday around midnight, when I checked on him, he stank. I woke him up and wiped him down. I changed his clothes. And I put him back to bed. In the morning I called doctor. Apparently there is a bug going around that usually starts with a day to a day and a half of vomitting. And the diarrhea is supposed to be the end of the virus-- the time when it moves out of the system. It sure did linger with Casey. Finally yesterday (Tuesday) he seemed better.
And this morning he was back to his old antics. You know, refusing to pick out clothes. Telling me no when I said it was time to brush his teeth. And asking for two bowls of cereal for breakfast (consecutively, not at the same time!).
But while he's been home-- and babied-- he sure got used to it. Lately he has been insisting that there are two babies in our home-- Marcie and Casey. He wants to do everything she does. He asks for a bottle, asks to play in her pack n play and her crib, and wants a "turn" in the stroller and the high chair. Yesterday morning, when I went to change my clothes, I heard a strange noise in the other room, like someone bouncing in the Jumperoo. But Marcie was with me. When I went into the family room, this is what I saw:
Later in the morning, I heard Casey yelping for help. He'd gotten one leg into Marcie's exer-saucer before getting stuck. Then, he insisted on trying on all of Marcie's robeez slippers-- pink butterfly ones and all. He knows they are too small, but he still wants them.
Then today Casey all of a sudden didn't want to go to school. When we went into the classroom, and he wouldn't let go of my leg, I told him he needed to go sit in the circle, or he would have to go home. Boy, was that a mistake. He looked me right in the eyes and said, "I want go home." Oops. Eventually he agreed to sit on the yellow square next to the volunteer reading the class a story. It amazes me how quickly you can undo a routine, though-- it takes weeks and weeks and weeks to set it up. Then one minor stomach bug and BAM! You have to start all over again.
I guess that's one thing about being a parent-- you've got a be willing to do the same thing over and over again-- whether it's cleaning up poop in the middle of the night, multiple nights in a row, or re-establishing a routine. You just have to stick to it . . .