When the poop hits the, um, floor

Can I just lament about something kind of gross today?  Can I tell you how incredibly tired I am of dealing with other people’s fecal matter!!!??  It’s one thing to deal with my own movements and such, but add two small human beings to the mix and I’m just done.  Luckily, BQ is potty trained, so I am only on wiping duty.  What a relief.  Molé on the other hand, is still very much in the diaper stage and I’m not gonna lie, it’s nasty.

I have been using these great diapers, G Diapers, with  Molé.  They are a cloth/disposable hybrid if you will and fab.  The diaper is cloth except for a small insert that you can either flush, compost, or pitch.  If you throw it away, it only takes 150 days to enter the life triumphant, unlike regular diapers that take 500 YEARS.  Yes, YEARS!  Think about that the next time you inhale deeply the baby scents from your unused Pampers and then never buy them again.  So many better choices, ladies.  But that’s for another day and another post.  My effort to be a better citizen of planet earth has come with a relationship that I did not expect, and frankly I’m not enjoying.  It’s one thing to wipe a poop laden booty, remove the funky diaper and get on with your life.   It’s quite another to finish wiping and then begin the task of dismantling and disposing of the diaper.  The insert must be ripped apart and dumped into the toilet, then flushed.  After, I have to deal with the cloth portions that, if I’m unlucky, have also been soiled.  I never knew how cold toilet water was, but let me tell you, it’s no hot springs.  After said rinsing and what not, I get to place the diaper in a bag for later washing, which is the easy part.  In the meantime, there is a high likelihood that I have managed to get some poo on the floor, while narrowly dodging the little hands that are coming into the bathroom to “help.”  And, all with the background noise of BQ saying things like, “Where’s the poop?  Is that some on the floor?  Why is it on the floor?  Did you flush it?  Is it on your hand?  Where are Molé’s poops?”  It’s lovely.  I still love the diapers and wouldn’t trade them, but I had not planned on bonding so much with the waste products of my youngest child.

My other problem lately is due to the fact that it’s summer and produce is just amazing as can be, so we have been partaking in unusually high doses.  This in turn causes an increase in output.  4 times a day is the average these days.  Yep.  And, as you can imagine, the diapers are tons more work to clean up.  Now, non of us have ever struggled with going.  Just not in our DNA I guess.  My girls have been frequent flyers since birth and I’m grateful.  But, lately I feel like all I do is wipe.  The other problem is that evidently Molé is somewhat of a free flowing nudist.  It’s pretty much a saga of diaper off and we’re rolling in 5, 4, 3, 2…  She cannot be trusted with a bare bottom.  Urine is one thing, but poop on the floor, smooshed into the carpet, on the bottoms of little feet (I know I’m not the only one to have experienced these joys, ladies) or laying neatly in a pile next to a small child who has moved on to innocently reading a board book is not cool.  Oh how I detest the clean-up.  REALLY not fun.  So gross, so in violation of sanitation codes, and definitely not making any of you want to come over for a playdate.  

All this to say, poop really does happen.  And these days when it does, I’m usually there and involved.  I’ll keep the Lysol handy, the hand sanitizer at the ready, and continue to wipe and flush.  Some day I’m supposed to miss all this, right?


5 thoughts on “When the poop hits the, um, floor

  1. i still am jealous over y’alls gdiapers and cloth. can’t get everyone in this household on board (e.g. the husband guy).

    Poop. It’s an annoyance. Except when it’s not… which is the problem we’re dealing with around here with #1. #2 can still blow out any diaper rom here to tomorrow. she’s talented like that.

  2. Most definitely the NUMBER ONE thing I am dreading about motherhood. I almost puked changing my friend’s baby’s diaper for the first time… but hey, you’re married to a doctor, why not just have him bring home some surgical masks to wear while you’re doing the, um, dirty deed? 🙂

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