Things that I will hold over her head when she is 16

Otherwise known as "The Poop Post."

So, seemingly overnight, my relatively clean child has turned into somewhat of a mess.

Don't get me wrong, we have our share of poopy diapers through out the newborn phase. She has peed on Allen more than once before her bath, and cloth diapering was nasty from time to time. However, she was no where near some of the other horror stories I had heard from friends with littles. Apparently, it seems like she decided to make up for this all in ONE week.

Exhibit A: About a week ago, the little miss and I were in my room. I was getting ready, and she was already dressed and just crawling around. She was wearing one of my favorite dresses, one that goes almost down to her ankles, and seemed very content. However, at some point, I looked down and saw a clean diaper on the floor next to my laundry basked. Now, that is not totally unheard of. Diapers, like socks and t.v. remotes, can normally end up in random places that they do not belong. However, I figured I would check the little and see if she was missing something. Indeed she was. I lifted up her long dress, and her little naked butt peaked back at me. Then, before I could get the diaper back on her, she crawled over to my laundry basked, pulled herself up, braced herself, and made the face. Yes, you know the one. The one where she gets all red and serious and means business. Sure enough, when I lift up her little dress again, her "business" is about to land on my carpet. Well, thank goodness that diaper was there (apparently my daughter is not only smart enough to remove her own diaper, but smart enough to strategically remove her own diaper), and we caught it just in time.

Mama = 1, Lorelei = 0 :-) Yeah. I got this.

Exhibit B: Today, Lorelei took a morning bath, and I mistakenly did not re-diaper her right away. My child loves to be naked, and the more naked she is, the faster she crawls away from me. So, as you can imagine, she is quite a pain to clothe post-bath, and I was just taking my time. Anyway, after a minute, I went to her room to get out her clothes and diaper, finally ready to face her. Little Lorelei was having a grand ole time crawling around her room, and decided to pull herself up on a giant costco box of diapers and play with them. I paused for a minute, giggling at the irony of it. "Haha! Lorelei knows she needs a diaper!" I thought to myself.
Then, the incident got more ironic when she peed all over the carpet next to her diaper box.

Mama = 1, Lorelei = 1.

Exhibit C: On Sunday, Allen, Lorelei, and I were fashionably late to church, and were enjoying a nice car ride together when suddenly, we smelled something yucky. Now, if you know where we live, that is not at all uncommon on a country morning, but this time, it seemed closer. "Is that Lorelei?" I asked Allen.

"I think so, but we have never smelled her from the front seat before!"

We finished our drive to church, and Allen pulled up in front so Lorelei and I could get out of the car. I went to the back seat to unbuckle her, and stopped dead in my tracks, my mouth wide open. There she was, smiling hugely at me, COVERED in poop. Seriously. It was out her diaper, all over her feet and legwarmers, on her hands, on her face, on her dress, on the carseat- seriously, EVERYWHERE. I told Allen what I was facing, and he said "Let's go home right now. We may as well turn back." He then came out and took one look at her and exclaimed "Disgusting! It is in her mouth!" and made a face like he was going to throw her in a washing machine right there.

Exasperated, I assured him that she would surely eat poop and not die many more times in her life, and we needed to just be calm. Not wanting to be that mom who was defeated by a blowout, I said "No, we can just clean her up."

Now, of course when I checked the diaper bag, there was no change of clothes. And no wipes. Yes, mother of the year, right here.

I left Allen with Princess Poopy Pants and went to the church nursery where my dear friend Rach was working.

"Uhh...we had a big accident. Poop. Everywhere. Need wipes."

I am pretty sure I sounded just like that too.

Rachel started rummaging through cabinets for wipes while I grabbed wet towels (the awful scratchy kind they have in public restrooms), and prepared to go out and clean L up. Then, Allen came in with Lorelei in all her glory, still in her carseat, and handed her to me, looking a bit scared. We both had left he diaper bag with the spare diapers the car. Awesome.

I collected Lorelei, who seemed to be catching on that all was not right in the world, and Rach followed us into the teeny tiny nursery bathroom. There, we assessed the damage, and I hoped that maybe it just LOOKED worse than it was.
Nope. It was terrible. All over EVERYTHING (except her hair, somehow). She smelled terrible and I was a bit unsure as of what to do. Do I clean her IN the carseat? Do I take her out? Where do we even begin?

We decided to take advantage of her being contained and wipe down her face and hands while she was in the carseat, and then moved on to the legs. Soon, I noticed that she managed to not only get her mess on the Bundleme and the carseat cover, but also on the straps and harness (aka, the parts of the carseat that I cannot throw in the washing machine). By now, Lorelei was crying from being wiped so much, and we had her down to her diaper. She was screaming in the bathroom as Rach and I tried to wipe her down quickly and painlessly, (while holding a completely unrelated conversation, as only moms can do.) Finally, when we felt she was as clean as could be from wiping, we removed her diaper to give her a bath in the sink. And somehow, there was hardly ANYTHING in the diaper. A talented one, my daughter.

Rach continued to bless me by helping me scrub my screaming child down in the sink, trying to not let her scratch herself on the faucet as she clawed at me to get out. Finally, after we all had enough, I lifted her out dripping wet (and towel-less), and held her as Rach kindly fetched a spare diaper and outfit from her son's diaper bag (by the way, I think that doing all that cleanup for a child who is not even your own makes you eligible for Sainthood. Thank you SO much, Rach!) We quickly dressed Lorelei (in a cute black all-boy romper) and brought her back into the nursery. Lorelei crawled off to play, I removed my stinky coat (now also marked with Lorelei's masterpiece), and Allen and I made our way to the sanctuary.

In other words, Mama = 1, Lorelei = 89548094859043886940

Potty training is going to be fun.