Julie Lyles Carr: Party Poopers...

Monday, September 28, 2009

Party Poopers...

If you're wanting to read a little Octamom with your morning cup of coffee and stack o' pancakes, you might, ah, want to finish up that breakfast first and then join me back here.


You want to go on and read ahead?

Suit yourself.

But don't say I didn't warn ya...

7 and 8 of 8 are now full-fledged toddlers. And though they are twins, they are very, very different.

In almost every area.

She's brunette, he's a dark blond. She has green eyes, he has blue. She's right handed, he's left handed. She's somewhat quiet with a prodigious vocabulary. He's a constantly moving, always climbing, wrestling, pillow-fighting force of nature.

But they have found an activity they both seem to equally enjoy.

It's bonding, I suppose.

Because over the last couple of weeks, during naptime, they have developed a little ritual.

We'll hear them chatting at the end of naptime and innocently walk in the door of the nursery.

All to be hit by a wall of aroma.

You see, they've taken to completely stripping at some point during naptime, each jaybird contained in their own cribs, their pajamas flung like streamers to the middle of the floor. And then we notice that the diapers have likewise been flung from the crib enclosures.

And then 7 of 8 will sweetly say, "I poop."

And that's when you know.

Because once you've peeled off your feety jammies and you've thrown all your toys out of the crib and you've even tossed out your diaper, there's just not a whole lot left to occupy your time.

Unless you get very creative.

So they've been holding little Fecal Festivals, as I like to call them.

They mine whatever is contained in the boundaries of their diapers and use it as art medium. Once might call it diaper diving.

They are very, very quiet while they engage in this secretive art.

And they have been extremely consistent.

As in, we find that a Fecal Festival has been thrown in two out of three naptimes.

They are prolific poopers. Okay, wait, that didn't read quite right. Let's just say that their collection of artwork is extensive. And that no stuffed animals within reach are safe.

And you don't even want to know what 7 of 8 did to her Cinderella pillow.


One of the ironies of this activity is that they seem to have an agreed-upon threshold level of tolerance for this art medium.

Because once they have slathered furniture and soft furnishings with their diaper findings, once they have created 2.7 loads of laundry, once they have developed a situation that will take me 27.4 minutes to fully fumigate and sanitize, there is a squeal from one of them.

"Ucky, ucky, ucky!" comes the cry.

And they jump up and down in their cribs and start shouting, "Baf, baf, baf!"...(which, toddler translated, is 'bath').

They are suddenly struck with utter disgust with the condition of their nursery, their bedding, their artwork and look at us with scolding eyes that we've allowed this situation to occur.

I've developed what I call the 'Two-Bath' process as part of the haz-mat reclamation process. We do an initial warm bath to, uh, dislodge any, uh, foreign materials. Then I drain the tub, scrub it, and start again with Bath #2.

Very green on my part. Very eco-friendly. Kind of like when I take all those canvas bags to the grocery store with me. And forget them in the van.

Of course, this double-bath procedure is not without its risks. I keep having flashbacks to the spring, when I was dealing with this situation.

So the news from here is, hurray, the twins have found an activity they enjoy together, something that is organic, requires creativity and is apparently endlessly fun. Until they decide it's gross.

And the bad news would be that it involves bodily products.

But they would say that the good news is that they have housekeeping staff who deals with the aftermath.

And that would be me.

Does my hair smell like Lysol?

You would tell me, right?

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