I am sick. Mr. Ouiser came home early yesterday so I could rest. After he put T to bed, S had a little, ummmmm, accident. Essentially, she sharted. Pardon my French. It was not a fabulous moment...though when M reenacted her coming back from the bathroom with soiled panties around her ankles saying, "Dad, I think something's wrong here," it was pretty funny to me, The NyQuil Lady. In that situation, what needed to be done was to put the girl promptly into the shower and try not to get anything on himself. And he did it. Tactfully.
This morning as I walked upstairs to get my tiny little man out of bed, I got halfway up before the smell hit me. As I currently have fifty three pounds of mucus clogging my head, it's saying something that I can smell anything. That should tell you how awful the smell probably would've been to anyone with unencumbered olfactory senses. The little dude had a wicked leaky diaper. Thus, first thing this morning, the thing that needed to be done was to strip the poop bed and bathe the wee one. So I did just that. And I threw open his bedroom windows to air out the stench.
Yesterday morning when S came downstairs, she brought Froggy with her. She doesn't do that often, so I was afraid she was really sick, but then she just said, "Mommy, I got snot on Frog." What needed to be done? Launder Snot Frog.
So, I stand by the need to Do What Needs To Be Done, but sometimes, I want to take a mental health day.