The Gift - 08/16/2006

*sigh* Hello. This post is gross. I'm warning you. Damian, just walk away from the screen. Right now.

Little Miss Cranky McCrankin was ...yes...cranky today. We could not figure out why. She was just not happy and not eating. Not even her "Fiiiish" (Goldfish crackers), which are her favorite right now.

I get home from work and start cooking dinner. J's watching TV, "I" is whining and walking around the kitchen. Then, she leaves to go upstairs. David is up there, so I am fine with that. About 2 minutes later, she starts crying and whining "Mommy, mommy, mommy," and crying some more. I go to see what is wrong and discover her, on the 3rd step up. Just standing there crying. And on each of the three steps, poop. Runny brown poop. I scoop her up and head up stairs. I yell for David to get the tub going. I place her on her changing table. Bad idea. Stuff was oozing out everywhere. The terrycloth pad cover is covered. She's crying. David's got her legs up while I wipe and maneuver the 50 pound liquid poop diaper away from her thrashing legs. Fun! Dinner's beeping. Water's boiling and J is downstairs yelling what should he do. I stop, run down stairs, wash my hands, take dinner out of the oven, pour the rice in the boiling water and run back upstairs. By this time, David has "I" in the tub and is washing her down. She is miserable and does not want to be there. Her poor butt has booty-burn. I run and start the laundry, throwing in the soiled socks, shorts and changing pad cover.

We get her out of the tub. I yell down for "J" to set the table and David heads down to start cleaning the stairs. My girl and I went to her room to dry her & dress her. I covered her butt in the stinky white cream and got her dressed. I asked her if she wanted to get down. She whines "Noooooooo." I asked her if she wanted to play. She whines "Noooooo." I ask her if she wants Mommy to hold her. She almost starts to say no, and then she just mumbles something. I said "If you want Mommy to hold you, you have to say yes." She whines "Yeeeeeeesss." So, I hold her and we sit on the couch in the loft, me rubbing her back, she with her head on my chest. One minute later, she's running for one of her baby dolls and is happy. *sigh* I go to my bedroom, look in the mirror and discover that my dress has poop on it.

Dinner was fine, (I changed into shorts & a T-shirt) we had to change her diaper 2 more times in one hour, and I went back to re-clean the carpet with this pet stain remover that I bought once-upon-a-time when J threw up in the car on our way up to Lookout Mountain one winter. What is it with me & my projectile-emitting kids?

I'm pooped. *parum pum*