If you follow me on Twitter (hi, I love you!) you've already heard the bulk of this story. It bears re-telling just because I cannot get the mental picture out of my mind, and it's been two days since The Incident.
So if you're bored, sorry. Nothing to see here, today!
After having folded the kids' laundry, I decide naptime is over and I bring in a large tub full of neatly folded clothing into Bunny's room. As soon as I open the door, the stench kicks me in the gut: poop. "Did you have an accident, honey?" I ask. Mentally preparing myself to throw some sheets in the wash- not that big of a deal. I figure I'll place the clean clothes in her dresser, then address the poopy business. "My hands are dirty, Mama" I hear a little voice squeak in the semi-darkness. "Oh, ok. We'll wash them off in a...." This is when I see IT. I have not yet turned on the lights, but I can see a spray of brown all across the off-white drapes hanging in her room. My mind slowly begins to put the pieces together as I flip the lightswitch to reveal The Horror. (My first thought was to run downstairs and grab a camera to chronicle the epic disaster, but I spared you all from suppressing your gag-reflexes)
There is feces spread EVERYWHERE- on the walls, on the drapes, on the bed, the sheets, her clothes. It's like two monkeys got into a poop-throwing contest during the short two hour block Bunny was left alone. (what's worse- I had the monitor on, and never heard a peep)
I tried to coax any reasoning for the mess out of Bunny, but she was totally nonchalant about the whole thing answering, "My hands were dirty, so I wiped them on the curtains." My follow up of "why didn't you go into the bathroom and use the sink?!" was met with a light shrug. I didn't even ask why she had her hands down her dirty panties in the first place.
Bunny seemed oddly confused and aloof about the whole thing, so I just stuck her in the shower while I tried to wrap my mind around what was happening; I was about to scrub poop off my drapes. Nobody can prepare you for a task like that. I kept thinking "This kid is FIVE! I would expect something of this caliber from a 2 year old, but FIVE?!"
I wake up the remaining two children and thrust everyone into the shower. As I'm taking inventory of all the things that need to be washed/bleached/scrubbed, I hear this snippet of conversation coming from the bathroom:
Squirt: What happened to you, Bunny?
Bunny: Nothing... I pooped in my panties.
Squirt: I'm not going in there with poop. Mommieeee!
Me: Just get in the shower, it'll be fine.
Squirt: No! That's gross!
Me: Not half as gross as what I'm doing right now! Get. In. The. Shower.
So most of this excrement is thoroughly dried and caked on the fabrics, apparently this little poop-capade happened in the early parts of naptime. I end up having all three of my upstairs sinks soaking various items in pre-treater, and I'm combing the drapes trying to find a tag of any sort instructing me on the washing procedure. There is none- on any of the four panels I own.
Twitter tells me there is a chance they are dry-clean-only. The thought of hauling these smelly, poopy drapes down to the dry cleaners is inconceivable. I usually don't bother with what others think, but I could just picture the attendant's face as I handed her the poopy drapes, and IT WAS NOT WORTH IT.
I took a gamble and tossed them in the washer on delicate. If they were ruined? Well, they were already "ruined" to begin with at this point. I scrub the walls, the combination of Clorox wipes and a dab of Magic Eraser here and there (don't want to "erase" the paint off the walls!) works well, and the "Clorox" part of the deal makes me feel better- practically bleaching things is always a good answer to a borderline germaphobe.
I then direct my attention towards the kids in the shower. I have to SCRUB the crustiness of Bunny, and then wash/shampoo/dry all three children- which takes forever.
After that, I hear the washing machine cycle end. Time of reckoning. Will the drapes survive? Are they permanently stained?
HALLELUJAH! Drapes are fine, and I hang them to dry. The rest of the three loads of consequential laundry comes out ok as well. At the end of it, I am exhausted, perplexed, and well... I hope that never happens again.
After the events following The Incident, I have decided that Bunny is thoroughly tripped-out on this antibiotic and is totally, completely not-herself. She's been having weird behavioral issues ever since the medicine started. I feel bad for her, and am giving her preferential treatment.
So, I can safely say The Incident has been the worst experience in my parenting career so far. I cannot think of anything much worse. I am crossing my fingers as we venture into potty training Little Man that this will continue to be the hallmark as to all future messes will be measured: On a scale of 1 to The Incident.