What a Morning ...

This morning, things were going nicely.  The kids had finished eating, and I was just starting to clean up the breakfast dishes when I heard CC in the family room yelling, "POOP!  POOP!"  Uh oh.

I ran in and saw poop everywhere.  All over the carpet.  On the walls.  On toys.  On babies.  What the ... ??

A cursory examination of each child revealed that Little Man was the culprit. A seemingly impossible amount of poop had squeezed out of his diaper, through the leg of his shorts and onto the rug, then he'd apparently done his signature "scoot" right through it, tracking it everywhere.  Sweet Pea had joined in the fun.  CC was providing commentary.

I stuck the twins in a high chair to contain the mess and keep them out of it.  I tackled the carpet (I know, priorities might seem to be out of whack here, but remember we have a large dog who loves to get messy too, and I felt the need to clean it up before she got into the mix).  Many paper towels, wash rags, and a bottle of carpet cleaner later, I was ready to start on the rest.

Poop-covered toys were tossed into the bathroom sink for cleaning later.  Sweet Pea was less messy, so after I attacked her with a few wipes, she was no worse for the wear.  I brought everyone upstairs and started trying to clean up Little Man, realizing quickly that wipes were no match for this mess.  I peeled off all his poopy clothes (which got all the previously clean parts of him -- like his hair -- poopy in the process; there's no way around it) and plopped him in the tub.

Fast forward 10 minutes, and Little Man was de-poopified and wearing a clean diaper and clothes.  Whew.  Time to deal with his clothes.  CC wanted to help -- which I was not going to let her do -- but she watched while I scrubbed all the poop off and filled the bathroom sink with water for soaking.  I let her pour a scoop of Oxiclean into the water, and I headed off to deal with the changing table and pad.

A few minutes later, CC came running into the room, crying.  "Cleaner tastes bad," she sobbed at me.  WHAT?!?!  She'd eaten some Oxiclean!  

Poop-covered changing tables be damned.  I told her to spit in the sink, wiped as much of the powder as I could see from her mouth, and told her to swish with water.  I sprinted downstairs and Googled "toddler ate Oxiclean" to see how bad the situation was.  From a cursory look, thank God, it didn't appear too dangerous -- I doubt she actually ingested any because the bad taste of it stopped her in her tracks.

Back upstairs.  Dirty changing table cover was tossed in the laundry basket and replaced.  Back downstairs with all three kids.  Toys had to be sanitized.  The covers from the two high chairs had to be scrubbed and put in the wash.  Walls had to be Magic-Erasered.

Then I sat down for a breather.  Downing a shot of bourbon wasn't really an option yet -- it wasn't even 9 am.

Did I mention the breakfast dishes weren't done yet?  And I have serious doubts about whether my carpet will ever recover.