Daddy the hero

Sooo, our weekend jaunt up the road to Mama and Daddy's was great. Mostly. Well, it was great fun for me. And mama. But, poor Daddy. Poor, POOR Daddy. What I am about to write is not for the faint of heart (or weak of stomach). Consider yourself forewarned....
It all started out very uneventfully. Ordered pizza last night, got my porch sittin' and tea drinkin' in, caught up on all the latest news... you know, ordinary stuff. Then, dad's saga begins. We put the babes to bed in my parent's room, because mama and I were working on some pictures/decorating stuff in the other part of the house, and thought it would be too loud for them. Smart move. Or so we thought. We stayed up later and later, got sillier and sillier (yes, we did get a lot done, too, okay, well some done). We laughed until we couldn't catch our breath, and daddy finally got sick of us. So he went to bed. Yep, he crawled into his OWN bed where little Andrew was peacefully dozing to get away from us. Mama and I finally hit the sack sometime after 1:30 a.m., and decided to leave the fellas alone, so as not to wake little Andrew up, and we slept in the other part of the house. Well, my little man ain't the best bedfellow. He kicks, wiggles, lays on top of you, throws his arms over you, drools, talks in his sleep, tries to bulldoze you out of the bed.... you get the picture. So, needless to say, Daddy didn't sleep much. And then awakens (exhausted) to a bright eyed little boy sitting on top of his chest before 6 a.m. shouting "Papa, papa- let's go play WIGHT NOW!!". So Daddy appeases him, lets us sleep and makes play- dough sculptures, goes through about 6 rounds of wrestling matches, plays bubbles outside, cooks a big breakfast- etc. He gets baby sister up, takes care of her, and finally decides to roll us out the bed about 8:30. Bleary eyed, we stumble around, Mama searches for coffee and we begin the process of gettin' ready for church, etc. Daddy helps dress kids, cleans the kitchen, irons shirts, cooks more breakfast for us (I am still zombie-like, trying to wake up!). We went to worship service, and then out to eat and had a beautiful time. Afternoon comes, Gran is over and everyone naps. After naps, Mama and I make a fateful decision to go to make a Wal-Mart run and leave the babes with Daddy. Poor guy. He readily agrees (I told you he's a
great dad) and off we go. About 45 minutes later, we return, and as we walk in the door we see Daddy. Just standing there. Absolutely shellshocked, and with the strangest look on his face. Then there are the kids. In completely different outfits than I left them in. And with wet hair.
It seems as if Andrew got quite absorbed in a movie while we were gone. And forgot himself. As in went poo-poo in his big boy pants. As in it was all down his legs. As in it was smeared all over his chair, pants, knees, thighs.... you get the picture. As in he has been left with the man who has the absolute weakest stomach know to man when it comes to human excrement. THE WEAKEST!!!! This is the man who cannot stand at the door of a room where a "bad" diaper is being changed without gagging. And of course mom and I (the 2 nurses with stomachs of IRON) are gone. He promptly whisks Andrew off to the bathroom, strips him, throws him in the bathtub (literally gagging and vomiting all the while) and proceeds to clean him. He only forgot one thing. Sister. At this point she emerges around the corner. With poop smeared all over her. On her face, stuck in her hair, all over her little hands, up her arms, down her neck, and ahem, around her mouth !! It seems as if she found brother's mistake, and had a grand old time playing in it. I think (from what he tells us) Daddy just about lost it at that point (especially when sister laughed and stuck her little poopy hands in his face). After he cleaned the carpet, cleaned two poopy kids and washed 2 sets of poopy clothes and lost his lunch, all he could do was laugh. And dare mama and I to EVER make him go through that again. ( I promise we won't daddy!)
I think tonight he has collapsed in his bed for a GOOD night's sleep, and is giving thanks that he is done with diaper duty. For now. Poor Daddy.
Happy Monday and
Much Love,
Jennifer