Today was much better, fortunately. We had a nice day, and even a fun outing at our library for storytime. Aaaahh ... just the kind of day I needed after yesterday. Nice. Calm. Unpoopy.
But alas, it was not to last. As we were putting Little Man and Sweet Pea to bed, CC made a ferocious mess in her pants. (This is very rare for her, even though she's only two weeks into potty training.)
MJ went downstairs to clean it up, and I'm not sure exactly what happened, but a minute later CC came running into the nursery, saying, "Daddy needs pudger." What?? "Pudger," she insisted.
Then I heard the unmistakable sounds from our downstairs bathroom. Oh. Plunger. Oh, God.
I went downstairs with some trepidation. MJ was in the bathroom, heaving away with the plunger with one hand, while using one of my drink pitchers (!!) to bail out fetid toilet water into the sink with his other. And still, the toilet kept overflowing. The floor was a lake of disgustingness.
Seriously? Seriously?! Yesterday wasn't enough? I swear I have come into contact with more poop in the last two days than in my last two years of being a mother.
I will spare you further details, as I'm sure these last few posts have already been enough to scare away most of my readers.
Suffice it to say that it took several hours to clean. It's not how we planned on spending our evening, but I am optimistic that the toilet will once again be functional by morning. A load of laundry (CC's, MJ's, mine) has been finished. The pitcher has been thrown away (no worries, future visitors!). The bathroom is fully bleached, and the rest of the downstairs is freshly mopped.
And this time, bourbon was an option.
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