Shhhh... it happens!

So. There was a time in my life that I was a very different person. I hadn't changed many diapers aside from a few here and there when I used to babysit, and I thought a kid drooling or, heaven forbid, spitting up on me was the end of the world.

(Actually, someone else's kid puking on me would actually gross me out pretty badly.)

But anyway, things have changed after two kids. I have been pooped on, peed on, spit-up on, full-on projectile vomited upon, you name it. And somehow, when it's your own kid, you just deal with it.

Unless you're a guy, I guess.

You see, Jordan has been on antibiotics the past few days because he's had croup twice in as many weeks. Antibiotics, decongestant and ibuprofen to reduce the inflammation. All that medicine means that basically every diaper I change is poopy. AND it's medicine poop, which is an awful consistency that doesn't just nicely roll or peel off the cloth diapers like normal poop. No, this stuff doesn't want to come off at all. Even when I scrape at it with the silicone spatula I have in the bathroom for such occasions. (See, I told you things have changed!)

So, that means that lately, there have often been a couple diapers soaking in the toilet in our half bath. Thanks goodness we have two bathrooms! But, the door MUST be kept closed because Jordan is into EVERYTHING these days, and that includes the dirty diaper bucket and the toilet.

Can you guess where this is going?

Tonight, I got the kids cleaned up and pajammified after dinner, and I was in the living room picking splinters out of Logan's fingers when I heard Hubby ask Jordan, "Why is your arm wet?" That question was followed with a panicky-sounding "Oh no..." and then a bit of chaos as Hubby ascertained that the baby had, indeed, been "fishing" in the toilet, which had two nasty diapers floating in its brown water. Said baby had then touched Hubby in various locations, thus spreading the fecal fun times all over his Daddy.

Daddy got kind of loud.

To which I had to reply, "Honey, chill out. Shhhh... It happens!"

Really, though, it does. Often.

I will freely admit it was probably me who left the bathroom door open this time. I dealt with it. I went in there and cleaned until you could eat off the floor while Hubby set about giving Jordan another bath.

And, yeah, it was pretty gross. He had actually pulled the diapers out of the toilet so there was brown water and chunks all over the floor.

I had to chuckle a bit, though. I mean, I didn't even flinch when I found out what Jordan did. I just said "OK, I'll take care of it in a minute."

That baffled Hubby, whose "poop alarms" were sounding, rendering him unable to think clearly. I imagine all that was going through his head was "Poop! Oh my God, poop! What do I do? Poop! There's poop! It touched me! Aaaargh! Gross! Poooooooooop!!!"

It got me thinking about how different our jobs are. I mean, between the cloth diapers and an almost-five-year-old boy who is learning to wipe his own butt, I have to deal with crap every day, in the literal sense, while he has to deal with an entirely different kind.

I wonder which is worse? Somehow, I get the idea that each of us thinks the other has the short end of the stick.

Oh well.

Whatever.

Shhh.... It happens.