unexpected shower

If you're a parent or if you've been around kids long enough I'm pretty sure you have been victim to mysterious poop syndrome. This occurs when a baby (please baby Jesus let this illness be over by age 1) has somehow managed to take a giant dump and push so hard and with such force that poop spills out the sides, top and back of their pamper.

I know you all have stories about your experiences with this problem. To be perfectly honest, I really hadn't encountered this until a few days ago. My husband on the other hand has had SEVERAL run-ins with this madness. He was once covered from neck to thigh in orange crap. Seriously? I still dont know how that happened. 

Well, the other day one of my beautiful dainty little twin babies had to relieve herself. Hey...it's natural. I waited for her to finish and promptly walked her over to the changing pad. I laughed at her pretty smile and kissed her rosy cheek. She cooed back and I tickled her sides as I laid her on the pad. My normal routine for changing diapers is to pull out the wipes I anticipate I'll need (usually 4) and place the clean diaper under the dirty one. I prepped the operating table and began. 

I was still laughing and talking to her when I pulled her onesie up. At this point her diaper was still snuggly attached to her little body. So why was my hand covered in crap? What is going on? Not only is my hand covered in crap, but so are my shorts, her onesie, the diaper, and the changing pad. I tried to remove the diaper and start wiping her down, but the more I wiped the more poop appeared. I couldn't get it off of everything. The new diaper even had poop on it. The entire time I'm panicking and trying to figure out what my next move will be. How will I get her clean? What about the other baby? Where the hell did my husband go? Is she done pooping? Who can perform an exorcism in Germany on a child's butt this late in the afternoon? Her face never changed, in fact, I think she quite enjoyed the ordeal. 

My decision was made. I was going to run her upstairs to our bathtub and rinse her off. First, I need to remove the onesie. Instead of going over her head I pulled it down her waist. No need to get it in her hair. Even though that would've been funny it's not like she can wash it out. Why cause more work for myself? Step two is to get her upstairs. I quickly grab her nude little body and race upstairs. Im praying she doesn't pee or poop while her tiny butt is exposed. Luckily, most of my house is tiled. 

I make it to the bathtub and I turn the sprayer on.Why isn't she being still? Because that would be too easy. She is fumbling around and pretending she doesn't know how to stand up. I can hear the other twin laughing wickedly downstairs. She is safe in her playpen, but if you know kids like I know kids, she can still get into mischief. 

My left arm instinctively cups around the little turd (hee hee hee) and I use my right to spray her body. When I feel she is clean enough to take downstairs, I lay the sprayer at the bottom of the tub and reach for the towel. The next series of events happened so fast I still have trouble recalling them. Duh Elisha, turn the sprayer off first. Well, I didn't. My next surprise was a fast water shot to the face. I screamed and the baby screamed and jumped while water coated the the ceiling, floor, tub, baby and me. 

I couldn't take it anymore. I cracked. My eyes shut tight and I threw back my head and laughed. What else can you do at this point? Of course the water wasn't still spraying while I had my nervous breakdown.  I did have the sense enough to turn it off immediately. I looked down at my baby and she looked up at me and all I could think was I can't want until Im old and you have to change my diaper.