Poop redux

O.K., so last night I went to visit a friend whose daughter just had a baby. Oh the sweet freshness of a brand-new person! He was very cute, and I offered to watch him while my friend and his daughter went out for ice cream. He had that wise Einstein-ish look that newborns have, and I enjoyed cuddling him. After my friend returned, his daughter went out to pick up a friend, and he and I had a nice long talk. It was very peaceful in his house, with a fire going in the fireplace and plenty of cheer and goodwill.

Then I went home.

The first thing I noticed was how quiet it was. Too quiet. When I came in the kitchen, Ian was seated at the table, which is where he is when he is either eating or in time out. But, there was no food...not a good sign. I turned and looked at my husband on the couch in the family room. How can I describe him? Hmmmm.....he had the sort of burnt out, wild eyed look of someone who has either done hard drugs for way too long, or of a vet with severe PTSD. So I ask (with trepidation) "What happened?"

There was a lengthy silence while John rubbed his face wearily with his hand. I waited. Then he sighed and said "Ian went up to his room and removed his pants. I thought he was going to (insert euphemism for Ian's favorite "hobby"), but he just let loose with a copious stream of diarrhea (sorry folks, the truth ain't pretty!) right on the floor of his room." Apparently it went everywhere: on the floor, on the wrestling mats, between the folds of the wrestling mats, and on several blankets. It took my husband a half hour to clean up the mess.  He was shellshocked and uncharacteristically didn't want to talk about it.  However, I was able to gather the following information about the "operation:" supplies used--one half roll of paper towels, a bottle of environmentally friendly greenworks liquid cleaner and bags for the detritus.  With further prompting he was able to say that first he thought one Kroger plastic bag would be sufficient, when that wasn't enough he got a second one, but even that apparently was not enough and he eventually had to use a third large paper bag.   With clear disgust on his face he vaguely pointed in the direction of the washer and whispered, the blankets are in the washing machine.  How to say this delicately--the soiling was rather extensive and copious.  We had to wash things three times. He also dumped in the clothes he was wearing during the clean up operation. All during the half hour cleanup he had Ian sitting on the toilet so he would be contained until he could clean him up. After he changed Ian, he sat him at the table in time out, and went to recover his wits on the couch. Which is where I found him after my lovely peaceful evening with a darling newborn. If my husband were the drinking type, I'm sure he would have had a stiff drink in his hand. As it was, he turned on one of his favorite Christmas movies and zoned out.

I hate to admit it, but I'm not too upset I missed out on this particular event. But I am sorry my husband was traumatized. I am happy to report that he has recovered, and Ian's room has no lingering unfortunate odors. Thank God we tore out the carpet!!