Poo in the Stew?

Last Thursday was one for the record books. It was the day before our Ferber attempt, and I was exhausted. Both babies were overtired and were melting down one after the other. Doodlebug in particular was feeling very clingy - when I turned away from him to pick up a toy, it elicited crying that could be heard for miles. Still, I was determined to make it a good day.

So I turned to Bob and Larry and the VeggieTales gang. After all, much like a rollergirl hot on the trail of victory, the stapler song had been skating violent loops in my brain for days. Maybe listening to it again would be the cure I needed. (Watch the video below at your own risk. None of the traditional remedies worked - not even singing La Cucaracha at the top of my lungs.)

I settled Doodlebug in the jumper, and Inchworm in the exersaucer. Once everyone had quieted, I determined that I was going to do something wonderful to show my appreciation for the Master Chief, and all the ways he's pitched in to help recently. It had to be something really good...something epic. Something like homemade beef stew.

I should mention that the Master Chief has been doing much of the cooking lately. I should also mention that he hates to cook, which makes it even more special when he does. He is the stereotypical meat-and-potatoes kind of guy, so what better way to say thank you than with meat and potatoes? Since we had taken a trip out to the farm lately, I had grass-fed beef on hand. I also had fresh veggies...I started getting excited, despite the hectic morning. It was going to be good. I just had to be careful not to set off our newly fixed smoke detectors, which are very sensitive and too high for me to reach (even with a ladder).

I started sauteeing some onions, and humming the stapler song to myself. (So much for a cure...) Then, I smelled something not onion-related. Sure enough, Doodle needed a diaper change. My pan hadn't been hot enough when I started the onions, so I decided to let them cook a bit while I whisked out a quick diaper change. After all, the little guy had already had two dirty diapers that morning - how bad could this one be?

Apparently...it could be and it was B.A.D. Bad as in, possibly the messiest diaper I have ever changed in my entire life. Homeland Security should have issued a warning. His crib looked like a bomb went off. (Side note: I've been changing the babies in their cribs lately. They are on a mission to roll around naked, and it's the only place I can corral them long enough to get a new diaper on.) But, he was clean. And I smelled burning onions.

I didn't have time to put a new diaper on him. Even the stapler song was obliterated by my thoughts of keeping the smoke detectors silent. The kid had already gone through three diapers in just a few hours; surely he was finished, right? So I put clean Doodle in his sister's crib with a toy while I raced back to the kitchen to rescue the onions.

I'm pretty sure I washed my hands first. I mean, I always wash my hands after diaper changes. I have the chafing and dry skin to prove it. But I was tired, and I don't always remember things I do when I'm tired...so just because I don't remember washing my hands doesn't mean I didn't do it. I think. And I didn't actually touch the onions, just the wooden spoon...but still. So much potential for contamination! I am a biologist by education, and thanks to my microbiology classes, I HATE GERMS. With a passion. I don't even use public restrooms. So there is no way I touched anything in my kitchen without scrubbing down first. I think...arrrgh.

My anxiety attack was stopped cold when Doodle started crying again. It wasn't "I'm bored; get me out of this crib" crying; it was "There is something really wrong and it needs to be fixed NOW" crying. While I had been saving our dinner, Doodle had been peeing - all over himself, and all over his sister's crib. Then, he rolled so that he was aiming out the side of the crib, and he peed all over the carpet, too. (Although I didn't find this out until later, when I was stripping the mattress and stepped in it.)

I would like to say that the rest of the day was drama-free, but Riddick decided to add his own finishing touches on my break with sanity. He deserves a post all to himself, so I will share his latest antics tomorrow (complete with photographic evidence). I did serve the stew for dinner, and the Master Chief loved it. I would have enjoyed it more if I wasn't so worried about whether there was extra "flavoring" involved.