Close to my heart

So, I wasn't going to post anything about this because I was a little tender-hearted about it yesterday, but at Greg's urging I have succumbed. I don't know if I have mentioned it here, but I recently was released from a six-year stint in the Primary when I was called to be the Second Counselor in the Young Women's Presidency. Last night was our first class activity, and I thought it would be fun to have a little class party to get to know the girls on a more casual basis. We played Twister and DDR, and talked a little bit about taking the right steps in life. Well, I am stalling because the emotionally draining incident occurred before mutual. As I was mopping my kitchen floor in a last-ditch effort to make things look presentable when the girls arrived for the party, Rachel woke up from her nap. I sent the other girls upstairs to entertain her in the crib while I finished up the kitchen. I made the girls promise not to make a mess, and listened to them bouncing around above my head. I was trying to decide if it would be prudent to take the opportunity to quickly wipe down the bathroom while the girls were so happily playing upstairs when Becca came down and said, "Mom, Sarah just stepped in the clean poop."
My decision was made for me. I ran upstairs, dreading the discovery of what "clean poop" is. When I opened Rachel's door I lost it. The sight was overwhelming. Rachel had pooped her pants during her nap, and the girls removed the offending diaper from her bottom. By so doing, the poop went on the floor (apparently "clean" poop is anything that doesn't stick to the diaper) and Sarah stepped in it. Then, since it was "clean" they decided to smear it everywhere. But I guess it wasn't clean enough to use their hands on, so instead they used my scriptures. I like to read my scriptures while I'm nursing Rachel because it is about the only quiet time I have, so they are usually in her room, and it was the sight of them torn and dirty that sent me over the edge. I sent the girls to their rooms and cried the entire time I was cleaning. My tears were echoed by Rachel's screams, since I wouldn't let her out of her crib while I worked.
It is amazing how attached I am to "my" scriptures. Even though I knew I could go out and get a new set of scriptures with very little effort, it was like the girls had ravaged a piece of myself when they did it.
By the time I finished cleaning, I had regained control of my emotions, and I even let the girls eat dinner (albeit a bit later than they are accustomed to eating) and had a good time with the young women. I guess this I just really needed to follow the idea given in Sunday School to get a new set of scriptures to study this year to see what new things "pop out" at me.