Friday, June 27, 2014

Nothing Prepares You for This

A few weeks ago, I walked into Willa's room in the morning to get her up and could smell the dirty diaper as I reached to pick her up out of the crib. In the process of getting her clothes out of the closet and then laying her down to change her diaper, poop squeezed out of the top of the diaper like toothpaste out of the tube. Only instead of a toothbrush, it all ended up on my arm. Giant. Pile. of Poop. On my arm. 

Yup. Major parental milestone right there. Getting poop on you. 

I mean you hear the stories about dealing with various bodily fluids and functions because babies don't have control of those systems yet. In a way you think you're prepared for it to happen. Your baby gets to be 14 months old, and you hadn't gotten pooped on yet so you applaud yourself on your awesome diapering skills. Then karma reveals her bitchy self (what a whore), and your pride goes down a couple points.

First of these milestones, I got peed on because I wasn't fast enough getting Willa into the bathtub. Then I got vomited on when she got her first stomach bug. And now I've completed the holy trinity... getting poop on me. 

Oh, but the poop story doesn't end there...

The next morning before I even turned on the light, I could smell the dirty diaper. But I wasn't prepared for what that light revealed. Poop EVERYWHERE. All over her crib... the sheet, the slats, her monkey she sleeps with. And all over her. It seemed like wherever I looked THERE WAS THE POOP mocking me for my arrogance. "Haha, silly woman. You thought yesterday was bad. That was the just my warm up act."

I stood there stunned as she stood there screaming and reaching for me. Then I swallowed, turned my stomach to iron and walked out to start the bath. As the bathtub was filling up, I returned to the room to get her out and stripped her down. While I gave her a quick bath, John came in and threw all the soiled items in the washing machine. It was not a pleasant experience for any of us. But we got her clean, and we moved on.

The third morning I almost didn't want to go into her room because I wasn't sure what would be waiting for me. Luckily, the crib and Willa were both clean.

Definitely a parenting experience that's going in the book of stories I tell her when she's older.

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