Poop. It's only 5pm, and on another wonderful WFH day I've now done 7 poop diapers including two blowouts. I've given each twin a bath, and have had to clean changing pads and beds and all that for both babies. I'm on my third load of poop laundry and counting (there's more in the dirty pile). In eight months, I can honestly say this ranks in the top 15 worst days. I'm nearly at my breaking point. It's not the poop that bothers me (though my hands are raw from anti-bacterial gel, spray Lysol, Lysol wipes, and hot soapy water), but it's the screaming needy baby gnawing on my nerves while I clean up poop and can't touch her for fear of the fecal matter I've got on me. And it's Claire, who has hopped up and down all day for attention and hasn't gotten much between my job and the poop clean-up. She has lost three stars so far due to her spectacular behavior. When she can't get mommy's attention, she always resorts to negative attention. And unfortunately that often works. I feel like I did lots of yelling today. Really, though, I was just begging her to entertain a crying baby while I cleaned poop, but a 3-year-old just can't see the immense value in that activity.
What is a little daunting is the knowledge the pooping event gets worse as the days of antibiotics increase. We're only on the first 24 hours of antibiotics and it's already this bad ... what will three days from now look like? We're smart enough to use the "sprinkles" - my term for that powder of good bacteria you can add back to a baby's gut by dumping some in their bottles - but this barely stems the tide. I think we're in for it. The usual question is nagging at me: do I go to the office tomorrow and leave the nanny with this mess? Or do I stay home and help her? I'd love a break from this circus, but I don't think it's fair to leave a caregiver with this. My internal struggle is knowing that if I've promised the boss at least two days of office time per week and I can't even deliver on that on a regular basis, at what point does my job end up in jeopardy? Someone gets the shaft - either the kids or the job. It's the working mom's daily struggle. And it's the struggle that frustrates me the most. I hate choosing between work and the kids.
Off to tackle the poop laundry and figure out a last-minute desperation dinner. That means take-out for us. And I need to mull the decision to go to the office tomorrow or not.