oh.crap

"Uh, Ger - I'm going to need your help"

I should have known better, I should have pretended I couldn't hear him. 

He never, never asks for help. 

That's what worried me.  So, instead of playing deaf, I hurried upstairs.

The smell.

It gave it away.

I hadn't opened her door more than an inch when I started to see it. 

Poop pebbles.

Gazillions of them. 

Had a Poop Pebble Bomb gone off?  How did I miss that?

My eyes slowly moved from the carpet to the crib. 


Ugh. 

Everywhere.  The crib.  The wall.  Blankie.  Timothy, the bear.  Lady, the pillowpet.  The doggie.  Every single stuffed animal had poop pebbles (itty bitty ones) matted in their fur.

Really?

Seth a.k.a Tender Stomach was a champ, we grabbed the garbage, put makeshift gloves one and started the cleanup process. 

So nasty.

The crime scene:

 (the poor rabbit tried to escape, but was overcome by the stench - he gave up the fight half-way to the door)

 (the prime suspect - she attempted to play innocent, with a rather convincing case - the only "evidence" on her was in her diaper.  and yes, that is nasty-ness on the wall above her crib)

 (survivors of the Poop Pebble Bomb and the washing machine - hanging out to dry)

Missing: One Little Toe

When Little Man was born, the first thing I checked was that the ultrasound hadn't lied - he was a boy.  Next, that he had ten little fingers and ten little toes.

Check, check and check.

Sadly, we almost lost one of those toes this morning. 

Lost...amputated...same thing?

Explanation needed?  On it.

Little Man has been an angel since he was born, he eats, sleeps, hangs out in his swing, he's happy as can be.  He rarely cries, when he's hungry he just gets a little fussy.  So, needless to say, I was a little concerned when I tried to feed him this morning and he wanted nothing to do with it.  Within a minute or two he went from being slightly fussy to full on wailing.

I started to de-swaddle the guy, with plans of checking his diaper.  When I tried to pull off his baby straight jacket swaddle-potamus , I was met with resistance.  Thankfully, I had the brains to not tug harder, but instead investigate the resistance. 

That's when I wanted to puke. 

Little Man's toe was lassoed with a stray string from the hem of the swaddler.  Evil String was wrapped around his fourth toe and pinky toe.  It was wrapped so tight around the fourth toe, it had all but strangled it.  It was so tight I couldn't see the string, however the toe was still very pink and attached...not purple, blue or (gag) dangling off.

Repeating to myself, be the calm mom, be the calm mom, be the...

PANIC.

I rushed to the kitchen and was able to carefully snip the string between the two toes.  I gently unwrapped the string and examined the damage.

The toe had a serious, red indentation from the string, but it was still attached and Little Man could still wiggle it. 

Near disaster, avoided.

I felt like the worst Mom.  I know it was a random accident, but seriously?  I should have known stray strings lurking in hems could be a menace to those sweet, little pink toes. 

Little Man doesn't seem to be holding it against me. 

And now, you must excuse me, there are ten pink toes to kiss.