Posted by: Hannah | 11/14/2012

this one is gross

Warning: If you have a weak stomach, or if stories about poop just aren’t your bag, you might want to skip this one and come back tomorrow. Or just watch this incredibly cute video of a hummingbird snoring:

Moms deal with a lot of poop.

Daycare providers deal with revolting amounts of poop.

During the day right now I have three in diapers; two babies, who are blameless although their poo is eye-wateringly horrifying sometimes, and Louis, who at 32 months is getting close to the limits of my tolerance in terms of his complete and utter refusal to consider toilet training again.

During the winter months when the windows can only be opened for very limited periods of time, my house has a… whiff. I buy scented candles, I change the garbage cans frequently, I bag the worst offenders individually to try and contain the smell. And yet – there is only so much I can do. Poo smells bad.

My dayhome encompasses the entire downstairs of my house – there is a playroom, an eat-in kitchen, a small sitting area with a rocking chair, a nap room, and a bathroom. The playroom adjoins the kitchen and there is no door or barricade between the two.

The kids were all in the playroom as I was cleaning up after lunch – my god, the mess three two year olds and two self-feeding babies can make on the floor is unbelievable – when Ron appeared at my elbow. “Mom, there’s a bad smell in the playroom. A POOP smell. I think Louis pooped.”

Now, this would not be unusual, because my little refuses-to-train child has at a minimum four poopy diapers per day. Our record is currently at seven, each one fouler, stickier, and more revolting than the last. And we’ve had a run of bad sickness and viruses this month, so I am being scrupulous about scrubbing down all the eating surfaces, not just with soap & water, but with anti-bacterial wipes as well. I was not paying super-close attention, I’ll admit.

“Louis,” I called over my shoulder, “do you have a poopy diaper?”

Louis of course answered “no, ah DON’T” but since he always says that, I didn’t believe him. “Come on out here and let me check, buddy”, I replied. Still not looking into the playroom, because I am an idiot.

He came out, I did the old pull-the-pants-away-from-the-back peek, and lo, he was indeed befouled. I sent him to the bathroom to wait for me while I finished up.

That’s when I finally looked in the playroom.


Baby G was sitting on the car mat. Suspicious brownish-green smears were on the floor… and his pants… and his hands… and *BARF GAG AAAGGGHH* around his mouth.

“Hey Mom,” said Ron carelessly, “I think Louis pooped on the floor.”

Ran into the playroom and snatched up Baby G, shooing the other kids out of the room ahead of me as I went. “Out, guys. OUT. OUT! Go to the story corner. Please. PLEASE GO TO THE STORY CORNER DON’T MAKE HANNAH USE HER LOUD VOICE.”

(Pixie kept leaving the room, only to wander back ten seconds later. The books in the story corner were nowhere near as fascinating as whatever was going on in the playroom, by god.)

Baby G eats like a trucker. He regularly eats more than the two year olds. He often eats more than Ron. He almost never indicates that he’s full – I just stop feeding him when I know he’s had enough for any normal person. As a result, his through-put is alarming.

He’s also been on antibiotics and Ventolin this past week, which has thrown his normally reliable diaper schedule completely out of whack. As of yesterday at lunch time, he’d been poop-free for going on 30 hours.

Well, he made up for it.

And it exploded up his back. As far as his neck. And when he moved around, it fell out of his diaper and landed on the floor. Where he crawled through it a bit. And then smeared it around. And then, apparently, sampled some because the piece of lasagna, half-cup of blueberries, 3oz of milk, apple muffin, and grapes he had finished eating not ten minutes previously were not sufficient to his needs.

Then I died.

Well no, I didn’t. I stripped Baby G down, wiped off the solids, then washed him. I cleaned out the inside of his mouth with a washcloth. I wadded up the laundry. I scrubbed the floor and car mat with anti-bacterial cleaner. I took the dinky cars that had been part of the adventure and chucked them in a sink of soapy water.

I tried not to gag during this whole procedure, but I really wanted to. Then I wanted to find a way to boil my entire house because GAAAAAA POOOOOOO.

And of course, because there is no rest for the wicked, no sooner was that mess dealt with that I had to go change Louis’ diaper. Shit happens, yo. Shit happens ALL THE GODDAMN TIME.



  1. OH DEAR GOD!!! I’ll admit I was less grossed out than relieved that it was Baby G’s own poo rather than the other child’s…What can I say, it’s the little things 😀

    • Spoken like a daycare provider. 🙂 I was relieved that none of the other kids took a taste. As far as I know. *shudder*

  2. Barf.
    (aren’t you glad I left this sensitive, thoughtful comment?)

    • I would also have accepted “gag” or “gross me out”.

  3. You are quite incredible for dealing with that situation. I gave myself a mental pat on the back for having picked up a small piece of poo which had escaped from my babysat-toddler’s nappy with my bare fingers (followed by lots and lots of handwashing), but I think I would have simply called in the troops to deal with a poopsplosion of this kind.

  4. I remember when No. 1 was closing in on 3 and was not reliably trained. No.2 was about four months old. We were at a friends house. Put No. 1 on the potty before we left but his diaper was wet. We literally had a half mile to go to come home, so I just dumped the diaper in the trash and put his pants back on, commando. When we got home, No.2 had had a massive poop, so, I went in to my bedroom to change the diaper. I only turned on the small lamp and it was full dark. While I was changing the little guy, I heard the big guy jumping around. I didn’t pay close attention, AS I SHOULD HAVE. Anyway, I was in the middle of cleaning up the little one, in the semi-dark room and in comes the big guy. “Here mommy” he says and hands me something in each hand. Unthinkingly, I held out my hands, baby still on changing table in front of me. Yup, two huge turds. WHAT TO DO? So, of course, I asked, “WHERE DID THESE COME FROM?” “The floor.” GAH. Hands full of poop, baby in a precariously high position, toddler incapable of actually helping.

    Frankly, I don’t remember what I did in the immediate aftermath. I THINK I deposited the toddler poop in the baby’s just removed diaper, levered him off the changing table with my elbows, and raced to the family room to examine the floor. GAH! Sympathies.

    • 😀 Oh GOD in your hands???!?!? There is not enough hand sanitizer in the world! 😀

  5. My stomach must be stronger than I thought. I’m not grossed out, just sympathetic and admiring. And I’m eating an apple while reading this.

    • My blog is a place of learning all about yourself.

  6. I think there is a poo spirit in your house. It can’t be coincidence that the worst poo incident I ever experienced happened in the TWO HOURS I WAS IN THAT SAME ROOM.

    • Clearly, it is time for an exorcism.

  7. Ewww…you handled the situation much better than a lot of us would have, that’s for sure. Like Kate, I was also oddly relieved that it was Baby G’s own poo rather than the other child’s. I mean, poo in your child’s mouth is…well, still poo in your child’s mouth; however it does somehow make it a bit less gross (but still gross).

    Even if I knew you only from reading your blog, from this and your other posts I would still have no doubts about your capabilities in providing outstanding child care services. May this be the worst poo-related incident of your career (or life, period)!

    • Aww, thanks. 🙂 Sometimes I *do* doubt myself, and this was definitely one of those times. Why oh why didn’t I look??

      • Eh, sometimes I don’t look on purpose – if no one is screaming/crying or hurt, I figure I can at least finish what I am doing – the mess will be there when I am done 😀

  8. What an ADORABLE hummingbird!

    • Right? The dayhome kids keep asking for the “snoring bird!” video.

  9. […] And then when I picked him up on Thursday, I was told that he had pooped in his Pull Ups and that it had burst out of his Pull Ups and gone all over the floor in a manner that I’m sure Hannah would sympathize with. […]

  10. […] much detail as he can manage. He didn’t seem to understand. I let him read my post about the Pootastrophe of 2012. “You told us about this!” he said, “but it’s funnier written […]

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