So today at 8 months in we had a momentous first. We had a code brown first. It was the first time that the baby pooed in the bath! I couldn’t believe it. She was happily kicking and splashing. She momentarily paused, only a small sliver of expression changed but in that split second I knew. There was nothing I could do. It was definitely a poo. She had shit in the bath. And it was not just a bit… it was a poonami.
My delicate little angel had somehow managed to produce a giant skid that rocketed from between her legs complete with shrapnel pieces that floated and circled around the infected area. We had a definite code brown situation. The bath toys were instantly evicted as I wafted the floaters away from the baby, lifting her out of the bath whilst trying to ensure that her bottom was clean and free of cling-ons.
Once the baby was dressed, it was time to face the aftermath. I needed a shower. I was already on day 3 of not washing my hair and couldn’t possibly cope again. I did consider leaving the scene of the crime for Daddy to deal with… but like I say, I really needed to wash my hair.
PLAN OF ATTACK
a) Sieve out the poo before releasing the water
b) Drain the water and then scrape up the giant skid?
The left over bubbles were frothing with a tinge of brown and the offending article was a good four inches long… plus floaters. I did consider putting out a vote on Facebook, but as I was in a rush to get us ready for Baby Sensory I really didn’t have time to indulge in such social media attention seeking.
Option B it was. The water drained away leaving a frothy brown mess. The baby was propped up in between my legs playing with the packet of baby wipes that I had discarded having pulled out a ream for the task in hand. Scoop and dump was my plan. So I scooped. It was a double handed affair. Both hands met in the middle and scooped up the majority of the turd. Into the toilet it went. This was when the smell hit me. The disturbed remnants of the ass blast sent off an aroma which made me gag. Of late, her poos have become monstrosities. Long gone are the delicate princess poos that she used to plop out. These bad boys are meaty and they stink!
This left full on skid marks. Actual streaks of poo were now adorning the white porcelain. The brown on white was like a beacon and I momentarily felt like standing on the bath and screaming, as if the poo skids were actually going to jump out and get me! I had gone in confidently first time, but now I wasn’t so confident. It was getting much closer to me having to actually touch some poo. Something that I could not even cope with. I cannot stand getting anything on my hands… and poo is a definite no go. One more sweep with the baby wipes, but it was futile, I couldn’t pick up the last few bits. So down came the shower head. I would blast the last traces away. No joy. The pitiful force of our shower didn’t budge a thing. So I ended up picking up the last few pieces in some tissue. I doused the bath with bleach and gave it a good scrub.
Phew I’d survived the poonami. I turned to pick up the baby and there she was, lying on her back happily chewing on a tube of Anusol! What a pain in the arse!
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