I think my new motto needs to be "Embrace Plan B (or C, or D)". I'm not good at embracing any plan except A. I have a plan. It's a good plan. If the world would conform to my plan, things would be all sparkles and rainbows. But why, oh why, does the world not want to do this?
Please understand that when I say "world" I mean my children. I understand that many of you have a more varied and expansive concept of the world, but not me. Yes, my husband makes up a significant part of the world too, but he's very easy to get along with, is influenced by logic and quickly grasps any reasonable plan. The rest of my "world" is cut from a different sort of mold.
And they delight in destroying Plan A.
Last Saturday morning's Plan A = relax and enjoy peaceful morning with family.
For some unknown reason my mind has ignored reality and still functions under the belief that Saturday mornings are time for sleeping in, eating a yummy breakfast and bumming around in pajamas. Yes, I realize I now have 3 children at home, but in my defense D would gladly sleep in til around 9:00 if we let him and Belle is very content to sing in her crib for hours on end - to the point where she objects to being taken out of it too soon. And yes I have a baby, but he's only been around for five Saturdays and somehow that's not enough for my brain to re-categorize Saturday mornings as "exactly like every other morning."
Last Saturday Liam was gracious enough to sleep til 7-ish so I thought we were in for a leisurely morning. Unfortunately, when I picked him up he was soaked through. So I changed him, his blankets and his crib sheet while he howled about the fact that not only was he hungry, but now he was naked and cold.
The peaceful part of Plan A begins to crumble slightly. I could have switched to a new plan here, like "Plan B:Enjoy a typical morning with normal interruptions and bodily fluids. Because my life is all about bodily fluids."
But I carry on blindly with Plan A, get him dressed, calmed and fed and we're back on track. Knowing Belle should be up by now I am headed to her room when I hear a desperate, "MOMMY!" which confuses me because I SWEAR it was D yelling, not Belle. I stick my head in his room and he's standing in the middle of his floor looking like someone just poured ice water down the back of his monkey footie pajamas. "I had a REALLY big accident!" he says, looking like he's about to cry. I calm him down (without touching him since his entire front is soaked in pee) and send him off to the bathroom to disrobe and throw all wet clothing into the tub. With a big sigh (and possibly some muttered cursing), I start to strip the second mattress of the morning, again trying not to touch any of the warm, wet places, which frankly doesn't leave many places to touch. That boy must have a bladder the size of a hot tub.
The relaxing part of Plan A is teetering precariously now too. Again, this would have been an opportune time to consider embracing a new plan. Something like "Plan C: Try to laugh at something that may be funny later."
But I wasn't seeing the humor. Liam was now objecting to the fact that I had unceremoniously plopped him on the floor in the corner of D's room. I finally got the bed clean and head to the bathroom to help D get the rest of himself clean. Somehow, still hoping to recover Plan A, I thought maybe he could just be cleaned off with a washcloth instead of doing a full bath. No, no one who saw the enormous puddle of pee on his bed would have thought that would work, but the Plan, people. I was still clinging to Plan A. Fixing a bath while holding a fussy baby wasn't leisurely. So I wiped him off, tossed a towel at him and told him to go get dressed while I got up Belle. If we could only get downstairs I was sure the morning would get back on track for Plan A.
I enter Belle's room and she's standing in her crib looking at me with big eyes saying, "Look! My tummy is REALLY wet!" Are you kidding me? HER TOO? Pee everywhere. I have no idea how her diaper did such a poor job at collecting pee, but I'm considering suing Pampers. Again, from pits to knees she was soaked and her sheets had a huge soggy spot just as big.
Forget relaxing and peaceful, at this point I'm wondering if it's even still morning. I should have just resigned the morning to "Plan D: Try not to touch any pee."
Toss Liam into a new corner, who by now is getting seriously fussy as he needs a nap, peel Belle out of her pj's, change ANOTHER set of sheets, commandeer a hamper to fill with a metric ton of pee soaked bedding and night clothes, and try not to scream. (OK, I may not have bothered to try not to scream.)
At this point D walks in still in a towel, feeling like he wasn't adequately underfoot while he was in the bathroom, and I notice that he still smells strongly of pee. I inform him he's getting a bath and to stand out of my way while I make Belle's bed. Which he does for a minute before making some sound like, "Uuuauahh!" and running for the bathroom. Yup, he'd just peed a little on the floor.
Clearly I was clinging to Plan A while the little turds were clinging to Plan P. They won.