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"Code Brown!" professionals

Posted Sep 29 2012 6:18am
When it comes to gross mom moments, it's hard to rank them in order.

There was the time that my dear little Isaac threw up all over at me when I was home for a long night by myself with his new little brother and our crazy puppy while husband was doing one of his 100-hour-residency-work-weeks. And there was also the time that Abigail had diarrhea while I was breastfeeding her. I had poop in places I'd prefer not to discuss.

Those were not good moments.

"Code Brown!"ranks up there. Not sure exactly where. The exact order is difficult to define sometimes. To read about a "Code Brown!" from the mouth of Isaac, our first willing participant, you can click here . Here is an excerpt
Next topic. My favorite topic. The bathtub. Man, I looovvveee my baths. I could stay in there all night. Sometimes, however, when I get bored and am ready to get out, I have learned that if I do something in the bathtub, it makes everyone go crazy. Daddy yells, "Code Brown!" and pulls me out of the tub and sets me totally wet on the floor of the bathroom. Mommy comes running in to scoop up my toys and throw them in the sink to wash them. Then they bring bleach in and hose everything down while I crawl around completely naked in the bathroom. It's quite hilarious and a ton of fun. I've done it twice now. Two nights in a row. How cool am I?

"Code Brown!"took a long break in our house. But in July of 2010, they rememerged. Our little Sidge joined the "Code Brown!" club as you can read out on this post .

So all that to say, it's now been a long time since the words, "Code Brown!" have echoed through the walls of our home.

Last night, that all changed.

Our little Abigail. Our sweet little diva. Our little lady joined the "Code Brown!" club. And not only did she join the club, she joined the club during a triple bath.

Yes, you read that right. A huge, terrible, blow-out "Code Brown!" while her brothers were with her in the tub.

Not good.

Not good at all.

Good thing we are well practiced. We've gone through drills. We've experienced the real thing. We are "Code Brown!" professionals.

We have a bath system in our house. When we deem the kiddos need baths (we do not give them every day simply because we don't have the energy), I head upstairs with Abigail. She starts the bath. Isaac will often join her, and as Sidge gets in, Abigail is usually done. I hand off Abigail to JB and then wash the boys.

There is therefore a small period, a short window, when all three kiddos are in the tub together. And it was during that short window that Abigail decided to "do her thang."

I opened the bathroom door and screamed at the top of my lungs: "JB! We have a 'Code Brown!'"

He came running. As our "Code Brown!" drills (and actual events) have prepared him to do. The person on the receiving end of the call is then the one who is supposed to help the bather, who is almost always, frozen with frustration and fear, as they (in the case me) try to figure out how to handle this. In this case, JB talked me out of my frozen fear and the following steps were followed in rapid succession
Step 1: Immediately begin to drain the tub
Step 2: Stand up the responsible party (Abigail) and begin to spray her down with hot water. Rewash responsible party.
Step 3: "Code Brown!" first line responder (JB) takes guilty party out of tub.
Step 4: Stand guilty bystanders (Isaac & Sidge) up. Instruct them to leave every toy, every soap sud, every drip of water in the tub. March them into parents' bathroom across the hall for a rewash in the shower.
Step 5: Send guilty bystanders to first line responder (JB) for bedtime ritual.
Step 6: Gather up all toys and bath rags and any possible item effected by "Code Brown!" and bring them downstairs for a bleach bath in outside sink.
Step 7: Bleach bathtub accordingly.
Step 8: If in doubt about cleanliness of any item, bleach again. And again. And again.

But gosh-darn-it wouldn't you know it that the universe knows when you have poop on your hands! (Not that I believe in a "universe" per se but it works here so go with me.) The universe knows that I have poop on my hands and that my husband is busy getting three different children dressed and ready for bed. Because just at the moment that the "Code Brown!"was at its peak, the doorbell rings.

Scrubs goes into "Guard Dog" mode instantly. Since our front door is inside of our gate, the poor window-shade-fixer-guy is standing there getting barked up and down as he waits for us to let him in. (This used to bother me a lot, but I have really realized what a good dog Scrubs is and that he is simply doing what he was born to do, and I therefore praise him and call him into another part of the house.) I put Scrubs in another part of the house. Let window-shade-fixer-guy into house. And here come Nick and Kristy, passing us on a walk. And then our friend Carla coming by to bring her fabulous baked goods.

Timing. Not good timing.

But then again, I've determined that nothing in the universe times well with a "Code Brown!"

The End. For now.

P.S. And yes, I realize Unfortunately is spelled wrong in the photo. But it's not my photo so, oh well.

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