After Olivia left on the bus, I helped Annabel finish her breakfast, washed off her booster tray, and swept her up the stairs to have her bath. I removed her pajamas quickly, just by holding her in my right hand over the hamper and stripping her with my left, almost in autopilot. We went to the bathroom. I perched on the edge of the tub with Bella perched on the edge of my lap. Once the bathwater was flowing at the perfect temperature, I stopped my flurry of activity long enough to acknowledge some sensory information that my nose had been trying to get through to my brain. There was an awful stench. I looked down to see poop--make that POOP--cascading out of Bella's diaper, onto my lap, up my arm, on my shirt, and dripping on the floor. (Make no mistake. I had already changed her once this morning, as soon as she got out of bed.) I yelled for Naomi's help, gasping for some wipes. Mimi came running in and ran out again as fast as possible. She whimpered something about it being "too gwoss", but I just told her to please get me the wipes.
Then I heard some retching and poor Mimi peeked around the corner, green-faced, to tell me she had puked all over the stairs. (She has been known to toss her cookies after looking at her own poop in the toilet. I should have known she was unreliable in this situation.) I decided I was on my own. I stripped Bella the rest of the way down, making a brave but futile effort to clean up the eruption with the wipes I retrieved from my bedroom. I decided a shower was the only way to handle the situation. I tried to hold her in the spray without getting myself wet, but ended up in the shower as well, scrubbing us both completely down with some serious antibacterial soap.
I got Bella out of my shower and soaking in her tub (why waste that perfect bathwater?) before I turned my attention to the stairs. Yuck. I hate cleaning up vomit.
Being a mom is such a dirty job. I think I'm going to talk to my business partner about me getting a raise.