Monday, March 15, 2010

Just a Poopy Day

Sunday is a day of rest.  Or it is supposed to be.  Mine?  Not so much.

It all started around two in the morning.  Keith was screaming in his room.  We rushed in to see what the problem was.  He had a touch of the runs with a complication of blistering diaper rash.  No wonder he woke up.   Once we remidied the problem he decided he didn't want to go back to sleep.  He thought it was time to play.  After finally getting him back to sleep an hour and a half later, we collapsed in our beds.  Jeffrey got a nice long sleep, and I woke up at about 6 to feed Faye. 

Then Sunday morning I woke with a start.  I have grown accustomed to not having an alarm clock.  When I am forced to use one, awakening with a jolt at seven am after a sleep deprived night always sets me up slightly grouchy.  Luckily {or unfortunately, depending on your perspective} there is no snooze button.  when it goes off, I have to make a choice.  Do I really need to get up, or can I sleep until my body {or Keith's screams} tells me to wake up.  I chose to sleep longer.  Not the smartest decision, but it was made with a non-coherent sleep deprived brain so really, I can't be held accountable for those actions.

Needless to say, we were late for church.

Before we left, I got some granola for Keith and me to eat.  Half way through my bowl I discovered a doggie surprise left by my mother in law's dog.  Lovely.  She had already left for church.  She was on time {said with a hint of jealousy}.  After wandering through the house aimlessly looking for someone else to clean up the mess yet knowing everyone was gone, I decided to sit down and finish my food.  If I had tried to clean it up during my meal, I would have lost it and had yet another disgusting mess to clean up. It wasn't pretty.  The dog spent the rest of the morning outside.

Finally, we headed off to church.  We had to sit in the foyer as there were no seats left in the chapel.  I hate doing that because Keith thinks it gives him license to goof off.  But yesterday it was a blessing in disguise.  As a hymn was being sung I pulled Faye out of her car seat and sat her on my lap.  She had not been sitting there more than a minute {the song was still going}when she decided she needed to relieve herself.  A nice loud bum-burp {as Keith so cutely calls them} echoed in the foyer.  I was happy we were in the foyer.  But not as happy as I was going to be.  Shortly after her bum burp my lap felt very warm.  I figured it was because she had just messed her diaper.  I leaned her forward and that is when I saw it.  Big goopy butterscotch mess that smelled like mustard.  A nice big puddle in my lap and all up her back.

I admit, I slightly panicked.  For a while I sat there not knowing what to do.  I then undressed the culprit so as not to stain her dress {it was her blessing dress.  I dressed her in it since I forgot to take a picture of her in it.  I was going to get cute pictures after church.  Smart, I know}.  I held her out in front of me, and hobbled down the hall so as not to have any of her mess drip from my skirt onto the church carpet.  It didn't.  I was so glad.  I got her to the changing table only to discover her diaper was nearly completely clean.  The inside of it, I mean.  Only a little had gotten inside the diaper.  All the rest of that runny mess decided to defy gravity and climb up and out of the diaper. 

Faye went the rest of church naked.  I went the rest of church with a giant cold wet spot otherwise known as the front of my skirt, or the place I had attempted to clean baby droppings off.  It was an unforgettable day, I tell you what.

And I learned a valuable lesson.  It is vital to always have a blow-out kit on hand.  Blow-out kit should contain not only diapers, wipes, bum cream, and a new change of clothes for baby, and toddler; it should also have a change of clothes for mother.

Now, all you moms with newish babies consider yourself warned.  I don't want to ever hear a repeat of this story.  It should never have happened, and it should never happen again. 

The End.
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