I Know You Love Baths, But....

Let me preface this by saying that this is not meant to embarrass you at any point in the future, nor do I intend to make a habit of publicly sharing the details of your feces, but this has become such a normal part of my life it seems worth noting.  Let me also say this is not meant as a complaint.  While it is true that I tell you often you are the ONLY person on this earth I would do this for, I don't really mind at all and it certainly keeps me laughing.

Since you have been born, I have cleaned poop off of things I never would have guessed:  walls, floors, the entire diaper changing area, the bouncy seat, swing, myself, my sister, countless outfits, and of course, nearly every inch of you.  I have actually gotten pretty good at it, if I do say so myself.

Here's a little sample of what these adventures are like, if nothing else, for you to be prepared at some point in the future should you ever have a child of your own.  Once again let me reiterate that I was not frustrated or angry, but instead LAUGHING throughout the entire ordeal.

Earlier today you were peacefully napping in your swing.  I was eating lunch and had some gentle music playing for our enjoyment.  I saw you stirring but you did not get upset so I merely let you wake on your own and continued about my business.  You were watching me and smiling big smiles.  Taken by your cunning ways, I came over to play with you and give you some attention.

At this point, I noticed the telltale signs of poop that had worked itself out of the top of the diaper and seeped through your shirt and all over the belt on the swing.  No problem, I pick you up and we head to your bedroom to get you cleaned up and changed.

Clearly this is going to require a complete wardrobe change, not just a diaper change, so I strip you down and discover this mess is even worse than I expected.  I stand there contemplating you in your mess of a diaper with poop smeared all the way up your belly and decide maybe this merits an impromptu bath.  For some reason I first thought that I would just leave you as you were and get the bath ready then clean everything up at one time, but was soon in for a change of plans when you promptly stuck your hand in the smeared poop.

In horror, I grasp your arm as quickly as possible to ensure that you don't immediately put it in your mouth.  Meanwhile I'm using my free hand to wrestle out a clean wipe and clean off your hand.  At this point I realize I need to clean up the entire mess before even thinking of a bath or else we'll have poop everywhere before the water is ready.  So I open your diaper and immediately, you put that same hand right back in the poop.  Also, as I'm opening the diaper you squirm enough so that your leg rubs right through the thick of it.  At this point the entire left side of your body is pretty much poop covered.

I ditch the diaper and start wiping you down with wipes to get as much off as possible, meanwhile still trying to make sure you don't put that hand back in your mouth (yes, I'd wiped it at this point, but a simple wipe didn't seem quite sufficient for the severity of this mess).  At this point I'm left with a naked baby smiling up at me while I stand there debating what to do next.  My hands are ice cold so it seems cruel to just carry you around naked until the bathwater is ready.  It also seems like a waste to put on a clean diaper only to take it right back off again.  I decide to wrap you in a blanket to keep you warm and just cross my fingers that you don't pee or poop anymore in the meantime.

As I proceed with this plan, you seem to be laughing at the whole situation, though that may have just been my imagination.  I know I was laughing though.  We ditch all the soiled clothing and changing pad by the washing machine and I curse myself again for continuing to store all of your bath things on the floor in a container that can't be picked up one-handed.  So I attempt to juggle you and wrestle this stupid box of bath stuff off the floor and carry it in to the kitchen.  Then realize I still haven't gotten out any clean clothes for you and I still need to get a few other bath items, and again curse myself for not keeping all of this more easily accessible and in one spot.  When will I learn?

From this point on we were pretty much smooth sailing.  You did not pee or poop again and you seemed to have a grand time in the bath.  The whole ordeal really tuckered you out and you are once again sound asleep as I write this.

I think the moral of the story here is this:  one day in the future when you start to think I am not the most amazing mother in the world, just remember that I didn't let you eat your poop.  You are welcome.