Yesterday I found myself in a very shitty situation! But before I get into that let’s talk about daycare. Doug Ford recently announced that daycare centres will be re-opening as of Friday, June 12th.
My heart explodes with emotion when I say that five of the most beautiful little human beings, between the ages of three and seven, call me Nanny. Keeping them safe is my major priority as are their parents. Having them return to daycare scares the shit out of me. I feel they are safer in my care right now and being temporarily laid off due to COVID allows me the opportunity to do that. Although I’m a young grandmother my girls feel that baby-sitting might be a physical strain on me. Talk about making me feel old. God Bless them!
There goes Plan A down the shitter so Plan B it is…the ‘cry for help before they loose their shit’ plan.
Yesterday came that cry for help from Krystal (daughter #3) a HR Advisor of Employee Relations at a hospital. Her three year old son Oliver has been needing some extra attention this past few days and with daddy at work mommy has been pulled in many directions. Nanny to the rescue before the shit hits the fan is a great job, or so I thought.
Charlene (daughter #2), with a five year old son Owen and three year old daughter Isla, is the Manager of Operations for Commercial Solutions at an insurance company. She too is juggling way to many balls in the air while her husband is at work. With 40 degree temperatures and no indication of when the portable pool they ordered in May would be delivered, offering to pick up the kids for a swim date with Oliver was met with a hard ‘YES’.
Upon arrival at Oliver’s house we were hit with a frosty welcome…aka…air conditioner on bust. Isla started shivering so I pulled a pink short sleeved t-shirt on over the floral teal sundress she was wearing as a bathing suit cover-up. The three cousins were so excited for their playdate that not much lunch was consumed. Owen wolfed down his hamburger, nibbled on a few fries and was in the pool as Isla yells, “Nanny, I have to go pee!” When a three year old says she has to pee you drop everything and run.
Hurry Nanny, “I gotta pee!!” she says anxiously as I yank the t-shirt and sun dress up over her corkscrew curls. In one swift motion I yank down her bathing suit to her ankles and position her on the toilet. I may have thrown her, I can’t remember. Phew, crisis averted!
The pee is followed by an unexpected poop and in turn, “I’m done Nanny, can you wipe my bum?” she asks. In the middle of that task, I hear Owen yelling in a panicked voice, “Nanny I have to poo, I have to poo!” I glanced behind me to find him clutching his bum with both hands and shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to the other, “Hurry Nanny, It’s slipping out, it’s slipping out!”
“Oh God. Hold it Owen, hang on. I say in a flurry of panic.
I’m not sure how Isla got out of the bathroom with her bathing suit down around her ankles but she was suddenly gone. Owen does the duck waddle in the direction of the toilet while still clutching his bum. He’s yelling, “it’s slipping out, it’s slipping out!” to which I reply, “I’m trying honey, hold it Owen, hold it.” Swim trunks are a bitch to get off when soaking wet and as I squeaked them down to just below his bum cheeks it was clear he was not going to make it to the toilet. The poop, of a soft oatmeal consistency, was making a fast exit and my knee jerk reaction was to catch it in my hand. Like you would, right, said no sane person ever.
“Nooooo….OMG, OMG, OMG…I can’t…get you on the toilet!!!” I try to say with legs crossed, so I wouldn’t pee myself, as I laugh hysterically which sounded more like uncontrollable crying at this point.
Krystal comes running, thinking there was an emergency. He continues to poop in my cupped hand. Then Owen says, “Nanny, I have to pee!” “Shit,” I blurt out, no pun intended. I have shit in one hand and trying too kick the stool away from the toilet with my foot so I could steer him in the right direction. “Are you finished poopin’?” I inquired through my hysterical laughter, tears streaming down my face. “Yes, but I have to pee!” he replied in a tone that indicated a dire request. I vigorously shake the poop off my hand into the toilet. Let’s just say it was of a soft, sticky consistency and not willing to let go. At least I was able to reposition him in the direction of the cold porcelain bowl to pee. One small win for Nanny!
I quickly glanced up to see Krystal throwing a roll of paper towel in my direction as she’s walking away with her hand over her mouth, urging to throw up and trying to say, “I can’t”.
Using my clean left hand, and a foot, I manage to rip off a few sheets and proceed to wipe the hot, sticky, thick feces from my right hand. Let’s get real here, it was everywhere!
After three hand washings and passing the sniff test I look at Owen and pray that I didn’t traumatize him with my display of vile disgust. With his wet shorts around his ankles he looks at me with his big beautiful blue eyes, clearly embarrassed and asks, “Nanny, can you wipe my bum please?”
Getting back to the daycare centres re-opening. I’m rethinking that option.
Thanks for listening old friend