So #2, according to Dr. MotherOfDragons, came down with a stomach virus. My tests haven’t been conclusive on the variety but of one thing I’m sure, it’s bad. Fingers crossed it isn’t the Cyrus Virus. (But what if it is? The stench emitting from his diaper genie is cause enough to declare a national disaster of Chernobyl proportions).
But I digress.. back to the events of this evening..
It had been a long day of bodily fluids shooting out both ends and #2 desperately needed a bath. I decided it would be easier to put him in the shower with me…
I had just enough time to wash #2 and get my entire body (hair included) soaking wet before I started to smell something that definitely wasn’t Herbal Essences. I looked down and diarrhea had COVERED my pebble shower floor, expanded over the foam ABC’s, and I couldn’t keep #2 from dragging his body through his own fecal matter despite my attempts to remove him. It was literally a trifecta of bullshit.
It was in this moment that I regretted being a diva and upgrading to a rainfall shower head that flowed directly from the ceiling. You see, agent brown had spread to all corners of the shower (thanks, #2) and the only way I could get water to the areas of need was by using a bucket that in fact had large holes which subsequently splashed Montezuma’s revenge all the way up the walls, further into the grout, and up the door. Did I mention the chunks? THERE WAS NOWHERE FOR THEM TO GO.
In the midst of the madness, #2 had been screaming since the beginning of his fecal extravaganza and it was enough to make you want to chew your own ear off to make it stop.
We had to get out of there.
There was only 1 semi-dry towel left (by the way, did I mention we sold our washer & dryer 2 weeks ago and the replacement had yet to arrive?) There are no clean clothes (most are covered in shit and *hanging from the laundry room cabinets to keep the dog from eating them), and definitely no clean towels.
Meanwhile, #1 somehow made his way into the shower (what?) and by the time I realized it he was soaking wet and crying and covered in #2’s recycled fiber.
The 1 semi-dry towel available was draped around screaming #2, I was soaking wet (and naked) running around the house (please let the blinds be closed) in search of unused bed sheets to dry #1 off with, and the endless screaming from both dragons was palpable.
Luckily, Mr. MotherOfDragons came home just in time to take over while I poured myself another glass of amnesia.
*clothes were hand washed but somehow completely impossible to rid the stench, thus their need to be hung high above the dogs grasp<!