A bird in the hand is MUCH better than this

WARNING:  Parental over-sharing is about to happen.

In case you don't want to read on, here is a picture of a spooky spiderweb in the tree in front of our house.  I wouldn't want you to think that you surfed over here for nothing.

Ok, with that taken care of lets move on to what I'm thinking is hopefully the worst of the worst of parenting activities.  Lucy pooped in my bare hand.  See, now you're disgusted and wish you had clicked away after looking at my pretty spider web.

How on earth does a 19 month old kid poop on their mom!?  This is the question that I'm sure you were just noodling on, or more than likely wish you weren't noodling on.

Here's our story. Friday I was home working trying to catch up from being at the conference all week when the phone rings at 11:20 am.  The caller ID says it is the day care.  I answer without a hint of fear, heck maybe they just wanted to call to say how nice Lucy's hair looked or to remind me personally that they were going to be closed Monday.  Either way, I answer the phone "Lucy's mom".  Sigh.  It is when you are least expecting things that the the world goes wonky.

Lucy got into an altercation at day care with a member of her class (they won't tell me who) and she got bit... hard.  The little carnivore broke the skin and drew blood.   Calmly I ask if she's ok and tell Miss A. that I'll call her back in about 30 minutes.  Honestly, this was not a panic situation, but I decided to call the pediatrician just to see what they suggest.  My hope was neosporin and hugs.  NOPE.  We were given the first available appointment at 1:50 pm.  That pretty much ends my super productive work day as there is no taking the kid back to day care at this age.  Once we pick her up she is ours again.  This isn't a school rule, but a know thy toddler thing.  Eventually, she'll go to the dentist or doctor and get taken back to school, but under the age of three, I don't think it's happening. -Late afternoon or early morning appointments are my goal.  1:50 is smack dab in the middle of the day.  ICK.

Lucy's bite looked like it hurt.  While the doctor cleaned it with super special medical soap she told me that a human bite is second only to the bite of a kimono dragon or some other mystical being.  Either way, it earned Lucy a 5 day round of antibiotics.   This disappoints me because unlike liquid tylenol or advil she HATES it, so each dose is a wrestling match and this is her third round in 19 months and since eventually the virus' will adjust to the antibiotics I hope to keep her exposure low in case we run into a scenario in which it is dire.  With that said, I did not push back on the doctor in this case.  My medical degree has not yet arrived in the mail (the post is slow from Nigeria) so I deferred to my more papered colleague.

The trouble with antibiotics is that they can upset the tiny tummy.  (See, now we're getting back to the original topic.)  Our poor girl has not responded well and has had a mild diaper rash since day 2.  Since we were home through Monday I was able to keep the diaper rash to a dull roar because I'm only managing one child, whereas day care is managing 8-10.  I can spot a poopy diaper and respond instantly, but the teachers are busy breaking up the bite to the death wrestling matches over toy ownership.

Fast forward to bath time two nights ago.  Lucy won't sit in the water because it hurts her bottom.  I get her all scrubbed and clean and we're spending a few minutes (safely) playing with the tub toys on the ledge when I spot the tale tell (tell tell?)  signs of an impending poo.   We've experienced poop in the tub before, which is an unpleasant event that results in an emergency bleach of the tub, all the toys, my hands, and anything else I see.   To avert the tub contamination, my instinct was to reach out and 'take the poo' and flush it.

I don't tell you this story because I think it indicates what a good mother I am.  I tell you this story because I had an idea that poo would be part of the parenting gig, but voluntarily taking one in the hand wasn't on my list.

As I was telling Jason about it he said that he was proud of me.  You see, I'm grossed out by lots of things - snot bubbles, for one, make me gag  (GAG)  and this hits high on the gag meter.   I told him that I did ok when Lucy was throwing up and for 3 hours or more I held her while she threw up all over me.  I think I was able to do that for her because she's a small person who didn't understand.  I told Jason I couldn't do it for him.  He disagreed and then said 'if I was really sick you could do it, now if I pooped in your hand that would be a different story."  INDEED

I think we can all agree that the marital vows did not, do not and never will include adults pooping into the hands of their partners.  I don't even think it needed to be said - but I am glad we are crystal clear on that front.

So, there's my gross story.  Today is Lucy's last dose of the bad liquid, we have no rash left to speak of and last night she sat in the tub while having her bath.  Things are back to normal... until the phone rings again.