Oh poop

Wow life has been busy and tiring. I have had so many posts floating around in my head. Hopefully I will have a few moments to post some in the coming weeks. And for now here is a lovely dissertation on poop. You have been warned.
We have been fairly lucky parents when it comes to poop accidents. Well, at least since Gavin turned one.  As a baby he only pooped about once a week and when he did it exploded to the moon. Nothing was safe and it was always a guarantied bath. You know I forgot about that until I started writing this post.
Besides those weekly experiences, we were lucky. I have never had a child poop in the tub. Even potty training wasn't too bad in the messy poop department. After we finally got Gavin to go on the toilet, he never had an accident. The accident free streak ended at the worst possible moment.
 A few weeks ago we were invited to a BBQ at Jim's adviser's house.  Every year she throws a little party at the end of summer for all her students. We arrived at her house and the boys were instantly in heaven with her children's toys. I was excited that they were entertained enough that I might get to mingle a little bit. About ten minutes after our arrival Gavin came running out of the play room with a look of panic on his face. I knew it was urgent and rushed him to the bathroom.  I was expecting a pee pee accident but no, for the first time he had pooped his pants! I was horrified and he was panicked. I tried my best to get his pants off without spilling the poop. I failed. The small nugget hit the floor and I let out a little screech. Gavin jumped  and fell backwards, landing on my leg. As he stood up I let out my second screech as I looked at the smashed poop from his bum that was now all over my jeans. I was horrified and didn't know what to do. I started looking in the cupboard under the sink for something to clean up with. I felt so violating going through someone else's cabinets. The only thing I came up with was toilet paper. About five flushes and almost an entire roll of toilet paper later, I gave up and stared at the wet patched lined with lovely white lint balls on my thigh. I am sure the look on my face was one of utter disgust. I looked down at Gavin. He was so worried and apologetic I instantly felt bad for my reaction.  As I was sniffing my pants to see if I was going to smell like poop the rest of the night my horror turned to humor. I just had to laugh. Luckily there wasn't really any poop on Gavin's clothes. How that happened I still don't know. We finally made it out of the bathroom and enjoyed the rest of the evening without anyone knowing what had happened. We did have a lot of fun although I was scared that I smelled like poop the whole night. I survived poop trauma number one.
The second tragedy came on Halloween. We were going to a party in the afternoon so I tried to put Griffin to nap early. He fought it and cried for about 15 minutes. I was determined he would have a nap, so I just left him in there. Soon his cries turned to singing. Jingle Bells was particularly funny since it was Halloween. After 40 minutes in his room I gave in and when in to get him. When he saw me he said
 "Hi mom! yucky nose and hands." I looked down at him in the crib and the horror struck me. His hands were covered in dried poop. I didn't see any on his face so I was hoping the "yucky nose" just meant that it stunk. Further inspection found it on the backboard of the crib, finger painted all over his sheets, and small chunks clinging to his stuffed animals. I should have taken a picture, but at the moment I was just too appalled. I picked him up under his armpits and ran to the changing table. In my mind was was leaving a trail of runny poop all across the room. It had to be a bad leak to make such a mess. However, when we got to the changing table I was surprised to see it had not leaked out of his diaper. Further inspection reveled he had just stuck his hand down the back of his pants and into his diaper to find the treasure! It took me almost twenty minutes to clean him up. In case you didn't know, dried poop does not wash off easily. He really fought me while I used a nail file to dig the poop out of his nails. Luckily everything else I just tossed in the washing machine and it came out as good as new. Those stuffed animals were probably in need of a good washing anyway. So now I call Griffin "the poop painter."
it is a good thing my boys are cute! I have had my fill of poop fun. I hope that is the end of it for at least a little while.