Thirtieth Passage

This is the story of my morning. You might think it classless of me to take and share the photos below, and if so, I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry. I guess I don't care if you think it's tacky of me, or TMI. It's for posterity and therapy.

At 5:00 a.m. David's alarm went off. He got up and got ready to go hunting with his dad. I went back to sleep. At 7:30 my alarm went off. I got up, reminding myself that my body really does seem to require more than 7 hours of sleep. I go downstairs and do just a little bit of cleanup before William and Owen arrive for the day.
The boys and I talk about breakfast and decide upon pancakes. I start making them, when Morgan wakes up and joins us downstairs. He and William play with toys while Owen and I make breakfast. Soon I hear Lydia awake in her crib. I ask Morgan to go and get her up. He eventually does. She joins the boys in the living room. I set the table, then smell something horrid, even though I'm in the kitchen, and Lydia's in the living room.
"Lydia, are you poopy?"
The Morgan says, "Oh yeah, she pooped."
Lydia comes into the kitchen in response, and I am met with a sight equal to the smell. Lydia's pajamas are pretty soaked with watery poop, and it looks like she just wiped something brown from her hand onto her shoulder. Gah!
I tell the boys that they are welcome to eat, if they can dish it up themselves and not make a mess with the syrup, since it looks like I'll be awhile with Lydia.
As I follow Lydia up the stairs, (I didn't want to touch her enough to carry her) I'm wondering why Morgan didn't think Lydia's disgusting state was something worth telling me.
Lydia and I make it to her bedroom. I look into her crib and see this:

Not just diarrhea, but vomit too.
Okay, first things first. I carefully stand Lydia on her changing table and manage to get her pajamas off, but it's disgusting. I swear, every square inch of her skin was covered in a layer of stinky slime. I do a preliminary cleaning with wet wipes, then we head to the bathroom.
And this is what I see.

I stand in the doorway and blink. Why is there vomit all over the bathroom? The thought I have is, "I'm not mom enough for this!" and "Why don't I have a single pair of rubber gloves?!"
But I have a naked, filthy, daughter, so I side-step it and turn on the bath water, and stick Lydia in the tub while it fills up. But not before she leaves a little brown puddle on the rug when I wasn't looking.
I leave her for a moment so I can clean up the changing table and wall by the changing table. I get back to the bathroom, turn off the water, then call for Morgan.
Morgan comes upstairs with his body guards in tow. I meet him in the hall.
"Did you throw up last night, Morgan?"
"Uh, yeah, I think so."
Then he, (and his brothers) see the evidence in the bathroom.
"That was an accident!"
And I'm wondering what kind of 5 year old boy gets up in the middle of the night, actually makes it to the bathroom to throw up, finishes the job, and just goes back to bed without a single cry or hollar for mommy or daddy?
"Morgan, how come you didn't come get me when you threw up?"
"I didn't mean to do that." Morgan points to the mess.
"I know, it's fine. But next time, how about you tell mommy, so I can clean it up."
Then Morgan starts his frantic complaining and whining, which doesn't fit the situation, but I am able to gather that he somehow thinks that I am telling him that he has to clean it up. I clear up that little misunderstanding and send the boys to clean their room.
It's about this time that a bubbly explosion erupts from Lydia, and a brown cloud starts expanding around her. While this is terribly interesting to her, I'm not as enthralled. So I drain the water, get all the little pieces down the drain, and fill it up again.
This time I manage to get Lydia all cleaned up. It's when I'm telling her, "Time to get out." that she makes another interesting brown cloud in the water. And this might make me a bad mother, but I just yank her out of the water as fast as I can, and clean her off with a towel. I do not re-bathe her.
I dry off Lydia, and take her out of the stinky bathroom and put her in the stinky bedroom. I hurry to get a diaper on her. I pick out a shirt, put it on her, change her already soiled diaper, have a fight with her about what clothes she gets to wear, (I'm already having to tell her no short skirts in the fall) and take her downstairs and get her some pancakes.
Now it's time for more fun.
I tackle the vomit in the bathroom. There's a lot of it, and since it sat for who knows how many hours, a lot of it has dried and stuck. But I think I figure out how so much throw-up is around the toilet rather than in it. When I close the lid to the toilet I find this:

I think, in Morgan's night-time delirium, (he gets so confused and funny when he wakes up late at night) he didn't realize the toilet seat was closed, so his first heave ended up on the lid. Then he noticed his error, and opened it for the rest of the stomach expulsion.

When I finish the puke, Lydia is ready to be let up from the table. I get her up, clean her off, and then head back to clean the bathtub. But since Lydia is my little shadow, she follows me. While I'm scrubbing away, I glance back and notice that Lydia decided to brush her teeth, using the same toothbrush that I was using to clean up the vomit from the hard to clean crevasses in the toilet. Ahh!
I take care of that little problem, and finish up the tub.

Now it's time for laundry. I strip Lydia's bed. It is so gross. I avoid breathing out of my nose as much as possible. I just end up throwing away the book she had in her crib. Lydia protests when her baby has to "get a bath" in the washing machine.

The bathroom smells like vomit and bleach; Lydia's room smells like poop and bleach, so I take a moment to sit down to a breakfast of cold pancakes. It's a little after 10:00 now, but I quickly do the dishes before I round up the boys for school.

Still in my pajamas, most of the house still in shambles, I sit with the boys in the school room, hoping I get a chance to shower today, worrying that I'll run out of diapers before I get the chance to go to the store for more, and telling my brain to not think about the state of the kitchen right now. And that's when I realize Lydia needs her diaper changed again.

Luckily, the boys are exceptional with their schoolwork today. I even get to start this blog post while they do the work on their own, since they are needing less help all the time.

Lydia's diaper needs to be changed again.