Well, here I am again with another poop story. But you know what? Flatulence and poop are always good for a laugh. And I do like to try and make things funny. It's not hard when things like this happen to you. I need to give a little background before the payoff, so please stick with me.
In the middle of the night last night Libby fell out of her bed. It finally registered what happened after probably a minute or more of scream-crying. I went to get her up and realized she was wet. I told her to go to the bathroom and take off her pants. She did, and I took off the sheets and grabbed fresh underwear and pj's, meeting her outside the bathroom door, where she was trying to get her wet pants off her ankles. I helped her, tossed them in a pile with the wet sheet to be washed tomorrow, and helped her step into her clean pants and night shirt. I then saw some poop on the floor behind her. Gross, right? Well, this is not uncommon (here's some background on the background part: Libby does not always poop when she has the urge, we're working on it, but because of that she often poops in her sleep and also because of that her poop is so hard it rivals in size and consistency a golf ball. Prune juice, anyone?) So I grabbed some TP and plopped it in the toilet, trying to stay sleepy despite the fact that it stunk. I put on a clean sheet, she went back to bed, I washed my hands, peed, of course, and also went back to bed.
Okay. So this morning after breakfast I put the soiled laundry in the washer, added enough to make a load, which included her pillow (it's a small one I can put in the wash) and started the washer. I got everyone dressed and playing outside, and then had them wake up Jimmy. I then proceeded to do more cleaning in the kitchen than usual, because I'm going to have this baby soon and I want everything to be Queen-ready. Feeling rather proud of myself that I actually wiped down the inside of the microwave, I heard the washer stop. I decided to switch the laundry over to the dryer. I was also feeling proud of myself about this, because, sometimes soiled laundry sits for a while if it's not laundry day and when I wash laundry on NON laundry day, I tend to forget about it. I walked into the laundry room and told Jimmy something stunk. I assumed it was the full kitchen trash can, which sits right outside the laundry room door. (At this point I'm beginning to wonder if all this background is really worth a stinky payoff.) I open the washer and smelled inside. Something wasn't quite right. I pulled out Libby's pillow, buried my face in it, much like one might see on a laundry soap or fabric softener commercial, and took a big whiff. It didn't exactly smell like soap, but I still wasn't sure I wasn't just smelling the trash can. I put the pillow and a few other items into the dryer and then I discovered something. Libby's sheet had some brown flecks on it. And then I saw it. A poop terd in the bottom of my washer. Gross! I had just done a super sized load of laundry with soap and poop! I ran out to report my finding to Jimmy, only to go back in and find two more terds, the last and biggest stuck to the bottom of my washer looking large and in charge.
Well, of course I proceeded to look through every piece of laundry to make sure I didn't repeat the "Poop cycle" when I rewashed everything, and started the clothes again--with hot water and oxyclean this time. Did you believe me when I said her poop was like a golf ball? Well, obviously since it barely even disintegrated in an entire laundry cycle. And do you remember the part where I buried my face in the pillow? This is what has stuck with me all day. Me, proud of myself for doing my laundry efficiently, burying my face in a pillow that was washed with golf ball poop. Just when I thought we had seen every poop disaster known to man, another one rears it's ugly head. Or should I say it's ugly rear end?