When you have 8 years between your babies, you tend to forget how messy they can be. My mom tells me I am delusional in some ways because all I remember are the sweet coos and maybe a little baby drool (which I like to refer to as “baby sugar”). And so far, Miller had been fitting right in with my memories. Since he is a breastfed baby and still pretty small, we have not had any major messy disasters. Until yesterday. It was bad. Really bad. It was the type of diaper that makes you cringe forever more when you go to pull on the straps open, even for a wet diaper change. Because you know what this little person has the possibility of producing.
In typical little boy fashion, Miller thinks it is very funny when he dirties up his diaper. He grunts and groans then smiles and laughs. It’s just what he does and it’s kinda cute. I noticed yesterday that he was getting a bigger kick out of it than usual but just chalked that up to his personality expanding. Little did I know that he was trying to communicate to me that this was going to be his best work yet. So not taking him too seriously, I went ahead and took my shower quickly (he was already settled with his toys in the highchair and do you know how hard it is to get a shower when you have an infant?). When I got out, I grabbed him to change him and to my horror, as I put my hand on his little backside, there was a wet sticky mess. I hurried him over to the changing table (by carrying him at arms length) to survey the situation and it was worse than I could have possibly imagined. There was poop on his socks! I kid you not. It had come out of his Pampers, run all the way down his legs and soaked his socks. And that was not the only direction it had gone. My cute little baby was covered from his chest to his toes in poop. Not so cute huh?
I stripped him down and cleaned him off as quickly as I could. Of course, everything within arms reach now had to be washed so I laid him on the bed to gather it all up. And as he lay there in his diaper, you could tell he was so proud of himself. And I couldn’t help but laugh. Because I’m sure to him that was a major accomplishment. I mean, when your life consists of eating, sleeping and pooping, there has got to be some pride that come with being able to get such a reaction!
At the end of the day, neither of us are permanently traumatized from the experience (I don’t think). I did learn a valuable lesson though. No matter how good my diapers are, my baby is better. So next time, as soon as the grunts and groans start, off to the changing table we will go. And, at least for a while, I will always have a face mask ready just in case!