Knights Becoming and a Lady in Waiting

"Impressionism" Painting

I was reading Gena's blog about a certain JamesMeister knowing exactly where to do his duty and it brought back some rather... unpleasant memories. 

Well, I promised I'd share, so here you go.  Those with delicate stomachs (who should probably not be reading my blogs anyway; any mom of three over-active boys is long past the delicate stage!) might want to skip this one.

About one year ago, just after we moved into this house, we decided to put a lock on the outside of the boys' bedroom.  This wasn't to be mean; this was to save them from a frustrated, tired, asthmatic, pregnant mother losing it when she had to go back up the stairs to put them in their room too many times.  This was not one of the better days for said mom and two of the boys were spending some quality time with each other in their room.  They were supposed to be napping, but they were actually playing a creative mixture of hopscotch, zip-lining and tag involving two toddler beds, a dresser, and a closet full of hangers. 

Most of the hangers had broken by this point (hangers are not meant to bear the full weight of 20-month-old Prince Dannyboy and 3-year-old Prince Derryboy).  The beds were a disheveled mess.  They were bored with scaling the side of the dresser.  The younger one had a dirty diaper and a creative itch he just HAD to scratch.

I woke up from dozing on the couch, my six-month pregnant body immediately tensed.  Why was it quiet?  Some of you would have immediately thought that your little dears had just taken a nap like they were supposed to.  It is NEVER quiet at my house unless something is wrong. 

I hauled myself up the stairs, thankful that this wasn't a bad asthma day, jogged heavily to the door, unlocked it, threw open the door... and witnessed a surreal scene straight from an impressionist's painting.

My dear, sweet, wonderful sons had taken off Prince Dannyboy's pull-up and proceeded to use the contents to paint the room-- liberally.  They'd smeared the dresser.  They'd caked it on thick on the beds and bedding.  They'd done dot-to-dot on the walls and even managed to throw it up to the ceiling (no small feat, but Prince Derryboy-- then 3-- has an amazing arm).  I don't know why they had closed the closet door first, but I am forever grateful.  They did make sure neighbors could see their handiwork by splattering the windows.  As for their own bodies...

I backed out of the room before I'd actually stepped in, closed the door, locked it, sat down on the floor, and cried.  Alice in Wonderland has nothing on me.  I wasn't growing smaller, but the house threatened to overflow and we don't have flood insurance.  This realization caught my tightwad sensibilities and I managed to pull myself back together.

Okay, something had to be done.  DH wasn't going to be home for hours and the smell was already wafting down the stairs, threatening to trigger a late version of morning sickness.  I didn't want to have two messes to clean up, so I got the mask I had purchased when we were cleaning the house (to protect me from the fumes) and put it on.  I then opened the door, carefully removed the less messy boy (Prince Derryboy), relocked the door with a screaming Prince still inside, and gingerly removed Prince Derryboy's clothing over the tub.  I then stuck him in a tub of water, ignored every safety warning about leaving toddlers alone in the tub, trundled down two flights of stairs to the basement sink to drop off his clothing, took a deep breath of wonderfully clean air, and hauled myself back up the stairs for Prince Dannyboy.  I nearly broke down as I looked at him-- he looked more like a Gingerbread Boy than a blonde towhead.  However, I come from a long line of "can do" women and they were all watching me with disapproving expressions from Heaven.  They would never have fallen asleep while the boys were making this mess and they certainly wouldn't have cried about it, hormonal or not.  I was disgracing them.  Okay, okay. 

I stripped Prince Dannyboy right there in the room where his clothing couldn't do anymore harm, then picked him up, held my breath, and put him in the tub.  Wincing and gagging throughout the entire time, I shampooed and scrubbed both boys, emptied the tub, refilled, repeated, emptied the tub again, and did it one more time for good measure.  When there was absolutely no smell left and I couldn't find anymore signs of their adventure in various hidden orifices, I hauled them both out, dried them out, put them in clean clothing, and plopped them in front of the TV.  Barney was my new best friend.

Without stopping to think about it, I went upstairs and scrubbed the tub first.  Then I took the towels back down to the basement.  (For those of you who are keeping track, this is nine flights of stairs at this point.)  Still running on autopilot, I went back up and stripped the beds.  This got me back out of the room quickly, but involved touching dirty surfaces.  (I'm allergic to latex and that's the only kind of gloves we had in the house).  Another trip down two flights of stairs and I got the joy of cleaning out all the smeared bedding and clothing in the sink, then putting very hot water in the machine (who cares what the tags said at this point?  I couldn't read the tags) and dumping it all in with a little extra detergent (just a little... I didn't want to have to clean up a vomiting washing machine later).

I trotted back up the stairs with every cleaning agent I can think of (15 flights; who needs a gym membership?) and balked at the door of the room.  Where was I supposed to start?  What was I supposed to do?  How could I get this all done?  Forget dinner... I just wanted the smell out of my house.

Shaking worse than I ever have at the sight of spiders, mice, or even wasps, I started with the door.  I didn't have to really go in the room.  Just scrub and don't think.  Now the floor.  And so on...

In this way, I progressed through the whole the room, then went back for walls, then ceiling (backwards, I know, but I was NOT walking on that floor as it was!).  When hubby came home, the DC were in the middle of video #5 and I was scrubbing at the ceiling, glazed-eyed, splotchy-faced (from crying), and aching all over.  He took sympathy on me, made dinner, fed the kids and let me go take a very long, very hot shower.  He even put the bedding in the dryer when it became obvious I'd forgotten to run back down the stairs to do it.

This only happened once.  If it happens again, I'm burning the house and getting a tent in the backyard that we can just toss when it's too soiled.

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2:44 PM, May. 15, 2006 .. Posted by JennLovesJesus

Wow! Poor you! That's pretty nasty. I bet all that crying made you thirsty -- enough to remind yourself to drink your eight glasses a day! Ha! Where have you been? How's the water, fruits and veggies going? I've e-mailed you twice. If I don't hear from you soon I'll take the hint.

Jennifer :)

OH!!

2:55 PM, May. 15, 2006 .. Posted by 3menandalittlelady

My heart goes out to you!! I have three boys and a girl and I can sympathize...somewhat. They have never done any thing with, well you know, but there was a vaseline incident once. UGH. Hope you have recovered from your incident.:-) Bless your day!
Beth

Oh I'm sorry I'm not running some contest

3:38 PM, May. 15, 2006 .. Posted by MuckFootMom

any contest, 'cause you'd win, hands down.
Oh my. You didn't even scream? This totally makes me look lame for the poodoo on the bathroom floor, right behind the door (which, when opened, smeared an arc to the wall behind) making me screetch like an evil witch. I'm lame lame lame in comparison. You RULE for cleaning all that up without screaming. You are my hero.

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6:47 PM, May. 15, 2006 .. Posted by chickadee

that wins the most horrific story i have ever heard involving poop! i can't believe your son had enough poop in him to coat all those surfaces. i would have cried too. whenever i'm having a bad day now i'm going to remember your story.

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9:18 PM, May. 15, 2006 .. Posted by nsremom

Still laughing as I type this. ha,ha.

I had a similar experience, but it involved one boy...Couldn't imagine two!!!

Eew!

8:54 AM, May. 16, 2006 .. Posted by eakrabel

What a nasty mess. Sometimes being a mom forces us to do things we wouldn't have thought we could. But I'm with you--if it ever happens again, burn the house! :)

Oh my!

9:15 PM, May. 16, 2006 .. Posted by WaitingontheLord

I'm so glad you all survived that! Some days I wonder if my boys will survive - each other or me. My boys got into the markers today. I'm with you - if the house is quiet something's wrong! They colored each other's faces, necks, hands and clothes. Lovely! I'm so glad it wasn't poo!

Holy... well you know what!!!!

10:13 PM, May. 16, 2006 .. Posted by giggles3

First of all thank you for commenting and adding me to your friends list.
I too love it when I find someone with similar things.

I just read this story of yours and I could totally feel your pain. I know that feeling of going back and forth and just wanting to burn the house down and all of that. I have not had that exact experience but have delt with other situations like that where I just wanted to die.
You did well for all of that, I think I would have gone outside hosed the kids off clothes and all and waited for my hubby to come home.
I am glad you found my blog and I can't wait to read more of yours!
Have a wonderful rest of the week,
Christina

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7:28 AM, May. 17, 2006 .. Posted by eyecorn

You definitely win an award for poopiest blog story. Yup, I would have been crying, too. My DS did the hand in the diaper thing once while in his high chair...so it was confined, but the entire room...whew, that is a tad overwhelming! On that note, I hope you had a great Mother's Day and hiatus from blogging!