Last night's fun

Last night after dinner, Ethan left to perform as a soloist in a nearby Messiah sing, and Madeleine, who has woken up dry the past few mornings and who has been faithfully and regularly using the potty, waited until I was the solo parent on duty to poop in her underwear.

I immediately put her on the toilet to get the rest of her massive load out, and while I sat with her, she showed me her true remorse for pooping in her underwear.

MADELEINE: I just poop in my undies.
ME: Yes, you did poop in your undies. Where do your poopies go?
MADELEINE: In the POTTY!
ME: Do your poopies go in your underwear?
MADELEINE: (brightly) Yeah!
ME: No.
MADELEINE: Yeah, you just very ANGRY. It's not okay. It's not okay poopies in your underwear.
ME: Right. Poopies go in the potty. Do they go in your underwear?
MADELEINE: (cheerfully) Yeah!

Because she had already let loose the first bit of poop in her undies, once she was done on the potty, she had poop smeared down her legs that needed pretty immediate wiping, and regular toilet paper just wasn't cutting it.

"Touch your toes," I instructed, and she dutifully bent her body into a downward-dog pose, awaiting wiping. Now, I must point out, Madeleine has developed a really unhelpful tendency to frog-hop around the bathroom while in her downward-dog position, exclaiming "Quack! Quack!" as I attempt to wipe her bottom. Given her inherent klutziness and propensity towards face-planting, I usually wipe her in a frenzied and panicked fashion, trying to clear off the last of the poop before she falls onto the floor and spreads the poop all over the place. Last night I was especially frantic, and finding the regular toilet paper insufficient on the cakey, smeared leg-poop, I began shouting to Julia to bring me some wipes.

ME: Julia! I need some wipes! They're right by the diaper bag! Can you bring me some?
JULIA: (pattering around) Uh? Mama? Do you need a diaper?
ME: NO! WIPES! I need some wipes! Quickly!
JULIA: Uh? Mama? Well, I don't see any wipes.

I left the downward-dog Madeleine in the bathroom and began searching for wipes like a wild woman. Apparently they had grown legs and up and left, because they were not where they usually are. I ran back to the bathroom and began wetting wads of toilet paper and scrubbing at the smears of poop on Madeleine's legs. As she frog-hopped around the bathroom and each bit of toilet paper dissolved without doing much clean-up, I ultimately lost my cool and screamed. Which caused Madeleine to spasm in terror and begin wailing. There is nothing worse than watching your terrified child sobbing and knowing you can't pick her up to comfort her because she is naked and covered in poop. After I managed to scrub her clean, I took her into my arms and apologized profusely for scaring her.

ME: I'm so sorry honey. Did I scare you? Mommy just screamed. I didn't mean to scare you.
MADELEINE: Yeah, you just really scared me.
ME: I'm so sorry. Are you okay?
MADELEINE: Mommy just really SCARED me.

I got her into pj's and started the bedtime routine. After her books, I sang her a lullaby and did the ritual snuggling on the futon in her room before putting her in her crib. The whole time we snuggled, she whispered incoherently from behind her binky.

ME: (removing binky) What, honey?
MADELEINE: (whispering) Yeah, you just really scared me downstairs. (frantically latching back onto her binky.)
ME: I'm sorry, honey.
MADELEINE: (incoherent whispering.)

Repeat all of the above conversation.

In fact, as I put her into her crib and said, "Mommy loves you, sweetheart," she responded with a whispered, "Yeah, you just really scared me downstairs."

Mother of the year, all right.

Next was Julia, who asked me, as usual, to stay for one minute after her stories, prayer and song. As I cuddled her, she began whispering to me.

JULIA: (whispering) Mama?
ME: Yes, honey.
JULIA: (whispering) Do you know why I'm whispering?
ME: Why?
JULIA: (whispering) Because I'm sleeping.

Her "sleeping" did not last for long, however, because as soon as I had finished clean-up downstairs, had taken out my contacts and was ready to go up to my room to read and relax, Julia came down, asking me to come snuggle her in her bed. And that is where the evening took a really ridiculous turn.

After snuggling her nearly to sleep, I began to feel around her bed for my glasses, which I had taken off at some point in order to snuggle close to her. I failed to find them with my hands, and by this point Julia was wondering what I was doing. I asked her to help me, since I was nearly blind, and she made a half-hearted attempt to look around her bed before telling me she couldn't find them.

Fast-forward fifteen minutes, and the lights were on, I had lugged the whole futon mattress off the bed frame, and I was blindly crawling around under the bed frame feeling for glasses.

ME: Julia, you're the one who can see, so please tell me if you see some glasses.
JULIA: Well, Mama, I found THIS! (holding up an old goody bag from a long-ago birthday party)
ME: I need you to help me find my glasses.
JULIA: Here, Mama, I know what to do. I'm writing you a NOTE that says "Mommy can't find her glasses."

So helpful.

The good news is that I found my glasses, at long last. On the kitchen counter downstairs. I had not even worn them up to Julia's room. And I had kept her up late, tearing her room apart, trying to find them. (ME: I just wanted to relax! JULIA: Well, Mama, I just kind of wanted to go to sleep.) Again, Mother of the Year.

Thankfully, the kids do not seem scarred for life this morning. In fact, Madeleine is back to her usual antics: