Poopy Birds

Since becoming a mom, I've had to deal with some pretty disgusting situations. These include, but are not limited to: pee, poop, projectile vomit, snotty noses, bloody lips, and really nasty food messes. Usually though, these things are spread out, so that even though it is unpleasant to deal with at the time, it is not too overwhelming.

This week, however, I feel as though I've been caught up in some sort of perfect storm, where nearly every disgusting thing that could happen, has happened. And it's only Tuesday.

Yesterday started out like any typical Monday. After Binker returned home from preschool, and ate lunch, I announced that it was nap time, since I had reached my limit and could barely keep my eyes open.

Even though Binker now sleeps in a big boy bed at night, I usually have him take naps in his tent, since I want to make sure that while I am passed out to the world, he is contained and safe. He tends to fall asleep very quickly in the tent too, versus being in his bed. The other day though, I was gone for a seminar, and Husband was watching the boys. When I got home that evening Husband informed me (all superior-like) that not only did Binker nap in his big boy bed, but that he fell asleep quickly, without much problem at all.

So, obviously, not wanting to look like the weaker parent, I decided that I would let Binker nap on his bed, but I made it so that he could not get out of his room. I figured that even if he didn't fall asleep, so long as he was in his room, there was no way he could accidentally hurt himself. And things were going great until Binker's cries broke the silence of my nap.

I ran to his bedroom and found him crying that his Lion was missing. Everything looked normal at first, until I noticed that the pants Jacob was wearing looked slightly wet. I quickly realized that he must have removed his diaper, and then put his pants back on...and wet them. I sighed in slight frustration. No big deal though, really. I just needed to put a new diaper and pants on him, and discard of the removed diaper.

It didn't take me long to find it.

My gaze moved to the right, and I noticed several odd, brown spots on the floor. I quickly realized that the diaper he had removed had not just been a wet diaper. I was staring at Poop-ageddon. And not only had Binker dumped the diaper contents all over the floor, but it appeared he had stepped in it as well, mashing it all into the carpet.

And you think you're grossed out.

Nap ruined, I got to work on discarding of the mess and sanitizing the affected area. It was exhausting, and, well, just plain gross. By the time I was done, I declared to anyone who would listen that I was totally done with that day, and ready for Tuesday, as I assumed things could only get better.

Tuesday morning started off pretty much the same. Got Binker dressed and ready for school. At 7:40 we headed out front to wait for the school bus. Bug was still sleeping, so I didn't shut the front door all the way, since I didn't want him to hear it click and start crying for me. I closed it just enough that it was shut, but just barely.

On any other day this would have been perfectly fine, except that today there was a crazy amount of wind blowing.

About six minutes later, Binker had been picked up and I ran back toward the house. My heart sunk when I saw that the wind had blown our front door wide open.

A lot of our neighbors have cats, and they like to wander around our yard for some reason. Don't get me wrong, I like cats and all, but I don't want strange cats in my house, near my kids' toys, and as a pregnant woman, I'm not really supposed to be near cats either. So my first thought was, Oh man, I really hope some cat didn't get in our house.

And that's when I saw it. A bird. Hopping around our family room. A dirty, grimy, disease-carrying bird. A FREAKING BIRD!

I wish it had only been a cat in our house.

When the bird saw me, it flew up to the windowsill behind our couch, and kept pecking at the window trying to get out. "No, you stupid bird!!" I kept yelling, "That's a window! Go out the door!"

There I was, broom in hand, shouting like a lunatic, trying to coax the bird off our windowsill to get him out the front door, and hoping he wouldn't touch any other surface in the house on the way out.

No dice.

Finally I got a hold of a juice pitcher, and I managed to get it over the bird, and slid a book underneath it, so that he didn't have an exit. Then, screaming, and jumping back and forth on my feet, I ran it outside and set the little rat-with-wings free.

At that point the real work began though. The bird had pooped all over our windowsill, some of it getting on the back of our couch, and it had also shed a bunch of its disease-infested feathers. Since becoming pregnant I have tried to avoid using a lot of harsh cleaning chemicals, and stuck mainly to soap and water to clean surfaces. But for this? I broke out the good stuff: Clorox Wipes and Lysol spray. I scrubbed and sprayed until there was nothing left. Then Bug and I let all the sanitizing chemicals sit for a good couple of hours while we sought refuge at my mom's house.

I'd be lying though, if I didn't admit that it crossed my mind to simply drag the couch out to the driveway and set it on fire.

So, this has been my week so far, and I hesitate to say that things can only get better from here on out, because I am NOT going to tempt the universe with that loaded statement.

I have to admit that when I used to imagine being a parent, these were not the images that came to mind. I pictured happy, smiling faces, clean children and a clean house, you know, something out of a 1950's sitcom.

I have decided though, that in reality, my life is a lot more like the show Fear Factor.

Only with less monetary prizes and more bird flu.