The Shit Hit the Fan...

...of course, by"the fan" I really mean my feet.


The other night Minh was out returning a piece of rented equipment to Home Depot (yes, we rented more heavy machinery...more on that in a future post, if you're good) and I was bathing and putting Tai to bed by myself. No big deal--I often handle bath and bedtime by myself. Usually the only tricky part is wrestling a squirming Tai into his PJs without (1) letting him climb down off the changing table, (2) zipping his wriggly skin into his PJs, or (3) cursing at him. I can usually manage to avoid pitfall numbers 1 and 2. Let's leave it at that.


So, fully aware of the green beans and baby carrots boiling on the stove, I plopped Tai down in the bathtub and we proceeded to have a delightful time splashing, playing, and washing. This is always the best part of the day for both of us. But just as the fun was ending and the last drops of water drained from the tub, Tai pooped. Excellent. He's pooped in the tub before, but I always had backup. This time I was on my own. But really, since the tub was already empty this was pretty easily fixed. I plucked him from the wreckage and left the poop there to be dealt with later. Mentally reminding myself to check on the beans and carrots as soon as Tai was in his crib, I carried a dripping wet, and rather poopy baby to the changing table. Once his ass was wiped and diapered I dried him off and forced him into his pajamas.


OK, now I just had to nurse him, put him to bed, and go check on those beans and carrots. Oh, and THEN go clean the poop out of the tub. I had everything under control.


But actually, Tai was the one in control. He has instituted a new regime of Refusing to Go to Bed. Despite the smell of poop saturating his room, I nursed him to sleep. But as I lowered him into the crib he snapped awake and started screaming his head off. We returned to the glider and nursed and rocked some more, still marveling that the poop could smell so strongly that the odor was wafting across the hall, under his closed door, and into his room. A few minutes later, when I walked near the crib with him in my arms, he started screaming again. OK, back to the glider for more rocking with a pacifier and Emmit, Tai's favorite stuffed animal. We rocked and rocked and rocked. He was not falling asleep.


Suddenly I smelled another odor, layered over the smell of poop. It was the smell of...well, of burning. "Oh shit," I thought, all the water must have evaporated from that pot and I was about to burn the house down. Like it or not, I put Tai in his crib and ran to the stove to find that the beans and carrots were now black and becoming one with the bottom of the pot.


Just as I was heroically saving us from a house fire (that would have been my fault) Minh arrived home tired, sore, sweaty, and dirty after a long day of manual labor. He came in to find the house smelled like fire, the baby was SCREAMING in his crib and his wife's feet were smeared with baby poop. Apparently, some poop fell out from between my son's ass cheeks and landed on the top of my foot and then I crossed my feet at the ankles while nursing Tai and rubbed it all over both my feet (no wonder it smelled so bad in his room!)


Good husband that he is, Minh cleaned up the poop in the bathtub while I washed my feet and then went back in to nurse Tai some more (when in doubt, give 'em milk, right?) Tai finally went to bed, the house is still standing, and poop washes off. So, in the end, all was well. Whew!