Warning: This post contains graphic descriptions of parenting subject matter. Reader discretion is advised.
6:45 am - I wake to a plaintive cry from upstairs. From the timing, pitch, and quality, I am pretty sure it is one of the twins. It is. I open the door to the twins room to find Maribeth wailing piteously, "I poopy!" Little do I know ..
6:50 am - Now I know. The reek is inescapable and the quantity of the offending liqui-poop apparently inexhaustible. I have the diaper off and had move it the customary distance away from the child's hind end before I discover that I am dealing with liqui-poop. To my horror the deft removal technique I employ ensures the dispersal of the liqui-poop onto the child's dress and changing table. Furthermore the liqui-poop is threatening to drip onto the carpet!
6:55 am - The diaper is now disposed of. The dress is in the washing machine. I wipe down the changing table pad with disinfectant. The child is taken to the bathroom and showered off. I am now in the process of hunting down a diaper and clothes for Maribeth when I feel a tugging on the leg of my shorts. Megan says, "I poopy." About a minute later my consciousness returns to my body because while I was floating above it all my senses detected the distinct smell of vomit ..
7:20 am - Maribeth is now scrubbed, diapered, and dressed in clean pyjamas. Megan is also scrubbed, diapered, and dressed in clean pyjamas. The dresses in the washing machine are now augmented with the chunky sheets from Megan's bed and the non-chunky sheets from Maribeth's bed for good measure. The changing table has been scrubbed down with disinfectant. Everything in sight has been scrubbed down with disinfectant. I crack open the window and turn on the fan to try and vent the clinging scents of stale liqui-poop and chunked supper. I need to be scrubbed down with disinfectant. Instead of hopping in the shower, I wash my hands and arms, come downstairs to the computer and begin this blog entry ..