Thursday, 25 July 2013
The One With It All Over The Place
Home is a bit testing at the moment.
Hubby has to be away quite a bit for his work.
We are having building work done.
Oscar the cat has decided to start marking his territory in the house because another cat, known by us as Bob (her real name is Fluffy she doesn't look like a Fluffy, she's Bob - short for Kate) , has decided to adopt us and virtually lives outside on our windowsill.
This means that right by the window, underneath the desk where I sit and work, write blogs, do social media and generally bugger about on the computer, it stinks of piss. Actual piss. Cat piss. Which stinks!
And the boy refuses to use the potty. He just holds the wee/poo in and screams for a nappy on until I can take no more and have to give in because quite frankly I think he's uncomfortable and in pain bless him.
I've got one that won't wee and one that won't stop!
You can see why I'm a bit fraught at present.
So the other day hubby was away and I was bathing the boy.
Before his bath I asked him if he needed to go and use the potty.
"No, I want a nappy on." was his reply.
I've heard it all before and I thought, he's now having a bath I'm not putting a nappy on, so I ploughed on.
We have a downstairs bathroom with a small lobby between that and the kitchen, then the dining room is beyond that. You can stand in my dining room and see right through quite clearly to the bath, so after washing the boys hair etc I set the timer on the microwave for 5 more minutes playing and went to the dining room to fold washing.
I'd been folding away for no more than a couple of minutes when the boy shot up and in a startled voice cried out,
"Mummy, I want to get out. I want to get out!"
"But you've got a few minutes left to play darling if you want."
"NO! I WANT TO GET OUT"
The boy then started lobbing handfuls of something out of the water.
I rushed into the bathroom and the sight that greeted me was like the Battle of the Somme,
"What's that on the floor?" I thought. Oh god Oscar's not had a crap in the bathroom has he? No, it's everywhere (and I mean everywhere), maybe the cat's been sick. But he can't have been, he's upstairs and anyway I've been watching the whole time.
Bear in mind this all went through my head in a split second and with no great cohesion because the boy was howling and scooping up armfuls of dirty water and poo and throwing them out of the bath and onto the bathroom floor.
Tiles, bath mat, towels, floor, the pedestal on the sink, bath toys and the boy himself were all covered in shit.
Not just a poo in the bath you can scoop up with a jug and flush away in one swift and solid movement.
Oh no. The boy had, had a poo-naumi on a epic scale.
This thing was so wide spread it had its own postcode.
Poor little fella looked like he'd been bathing in it for hours not just 30 seconds or so. New Lynx Poo for Men - guaranteed to repel yucky girls and traumatise your mother.
It was all over his body, in his hair, on his face, in truth it was as if the last 15 minutes of bath time had never happened. Poor little fella was frightened so I had to keep as calm as I could whilst saying over and over again,
"Don't put your fingers in your mouth, don't put your fingers in your mouth."
You know sometimes when you're faced with a situation that involves a load of mess and you just don't know where to start? That's how I felt.
Do I lift the hysterical boy out of the shit infested water onto a floor covered in shit infested water and then clean it all up at the end?
Or do I wipe the floor of it's shit infested water first, hose him down with the shower then lift him out, effectively cleaning the shit infested water up as I go?
Or do I run about in a panic, crying and screaming,
"Everything's covered in shit, everything's covered in shit!!"
I think I did the middle one and tried to clean the boy, the bathroom and poor old Raa Raa the Noisy Lion bath toy who'd copped it, as we went along.
In my head I was doing the crying and screaming option, right up until after everything and everyone had been scrubbed down within an inch of their lives, bath toys were in a bucket of disinfectant and the bath was full of dettol and boiling hot water.
I was still inwardly crying and screaming as the now clean boy snuggled next to me with his milk and stories and even later on in the evening when I poured a glass of wine and shuddered at what had happened.
Don't get me wrong. I can clean up shit. I can clean up shit with the best of them. Shit I can do.
But you've heard the expression "A shower of shit!" - well that's nothing compared to bathtub full of the stuff.