We Survive a Crisis

Well, it finally happened, one of my worst parenting fears came to pass. Don't worry, we all survived with no visible injuries. Other parents warned me it would happen, but I took all possible precautions, and I really thought it would never happen to me. The baby pooped in the tub. I've done so well with diapers, I really thought I'd gotten over my reactive gagging and fear/loathing of all things bodily. Maybe, I thought, because it's my child, I can handle it. He'd just been changed- it had to be safe to bathe, the change wasn't even a 1/2 hour before. He needed a bath; he loves baths; he'd just, uh, eliminated - what could go wrong? 25 minutes into the bath (I told you he loves them) little bubbles escape up behind him. He looks shocked and somewhat amused. Not sure what that was, Mommy, but it was funny . . . Then, he leans up against my arm and goes "UUURRRRRGGGNNNNNNGGHHH!!" and a much BIGGER bubble appears. I laugh, thinking he must have figured out what made the first bubbles, when a tiny piece of poo floats to the surface. I say "NOOOOOOOOOO! NO POOPING IN THE TUB!!" But, alas and alack, it was too late. I'll spare you the rest of the details, but suffice it to say, I rinsed off the baby, threw a diaper on him and spent the next 10 minutes gagging while trying to deal with the offending waste. Chas ended up having to clean the tub and toys later (after the tub drained) because I'd dry-heaved so hard I thought my eyes might pop out. But we all survived, and I even was able to bring myself to give him another bath tonight (after giving him a stern talking to) and all went well. One major parenting crisis down, only 999,999,999 to go . . .