Poop-Splosion 2010

All I can say is...wow. We haven't had a lot of diaper blowouts. I could probably count them on one hand, and they were tame, except for one that I only heard about second-hand from Matt.

But last night. OH MY WORD. Matt and I were watching a DVR'd Glee episode when I noticed Audrey grunting. I had Matt mute the show so I could figure out what was wrong with her, because I'd never heard her make that sound before. Usually when she poops, she just gets a little red in the face and looks like she's concentrating really hard. But she was actually grunting, and I thought it was hilarious. I told Matt, "Looks like she's working on a good one for you." He grimaced and went back to eating (yes, eating, and he definitely shot me daggers with his eyes for mentioning it).

We waited a little bit to make sure everything had, ahem, vacated, and Matt took Audrey to the changing table. I decided to be a nice wife and follow them into the nursery, just in case Matt needed some help. When I touched Audrey's leg as she lay on the table, my fingers felt wet. Matt was busy getting the diaper and wipes ready, and when he started to change her, I said, "You might want to check for leaks, because my fingers are wet."

Meanwhile, I crossed the room to close the blinds so the neighborhood wouldn't be subjected to the debacle. Okay, I really did it was because it was already dark. Then for some reason, I smelled my hand. It smelled BAD. I couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, but I knew it wasn't good. I ran over and put my hand under Matt's nose (he gagged) and told him there was definitely a leak somewhere.

He said, "Oh my gosh, it's all the way up her back." And then I looked at my fingers. And there was poop on them. Now, I've had poop on my fingers before, obviously, but this was different. It was ENCRUSTED UNDER MY FINGERNAILS.

I started gagging, and we're talking pre-vomit gagging. I guess it didn't help that I've been nauseated for over a week from my never-ending migraine. And I freaked out. I started screaming, I think, enough to scare Audrey and make her start crying.

I ran out of the room, dry-heaving, while simultaneously trying to get the poop stain out of Audrey's almost-new outfit. Yep, couldn't let the outfit be a casualty of this thing.

I can't believe I acted like such a wuss. I'm an anxious, very nervous person in general, but in really stressful situations, I sometimes become disturbingly calm. It's like I push my feelings to the side and just start giving orders, making plans, anything to get some sense of control of the situation. But not this time.

I immediately started disinfecting everything. I mean, hello! I had touched the blind cords, the laundry detergent, the Spray N' Wash, the knobs on the sink...you get the picture. I could not rest until everything was cleaned, and I felt like Lady Macbeth as she screamed, "Out, damned spot!"

Ugh. Like I said before, I blame the week-long nausea for this freak-out. Just thinking of it makes me sick, and did I mention she even had it on her shoulder? I'm off to dry-heave now.