S: "Okay, if you say so."
*Pfffftt*
S: "Was that a toot...?"
J: "Yeah..."
*Poo launching*
J: "What the...?!!"
S: "I bet you want the light on now, huh?!"
See, we've been trying to keep the nighttime feedings and diaper-changing as mellow as possible, so that hopefully Everett doesn't get confused into thinking it's "awake time". We usually turn the bathroom light on and leave the door barely ajar during diaper changes, but Jason thought he could manage the 5:30 call-of-duty in the dark. I remember he asked me just how dirty was the diaper. And I said, "it's just pee...but that doesn't mean the poopy isn't far behind." When will Jason learn...?
Fortunately, the "redecorating" was kept to a minimum -- all the poop managed to stay on the changing table. We got it cleaned up fairly quickly, and once Everett was re-diapered, he went back to nursing like nothing ever happened. In fact, he was pretty proud of himself and let us know it by flashing a big, gummy smile. (Of course, we were too busy taking care of the poo situation to even anticipate the smiley photo op.)
After a couple more hours of sleep, it was time for another feeding and diapering session. Everett's dirty diaper was a little too distracting for him to eat well, so I woke Jason up to take care of it. Apparently, while we were sleeping, Everett had sufficiently dirtied his diaper, which explained the discomfort he was experiencing. Because we had just cleaned up a messy poo episode a couple hours prior, and his diaper was full, what happened next came as a shock to both of us.
[Jason made me promise to use the following phrase, so I'm sorry for it's vulgarity...]
**The Fountain of Feces**
 |
| Seriously, it looked a lot like this... (But instead of a tortoise, picture a baby. And instead of water, imagine poo.) |
That's right... Just as Jason lifted Everett's bottom to take away the dirty diaper and slide in the new one, Everett's abdominal muscles performed a feat even I was impressed by (even after experiencing several other projectile-poop episodes)! That little, tiny baby again spewed poop out of his body with such velocity that, had Jason raised his tushy to any steeper angle, I swear the poo would've hit the ceiling! As I crawled out of bed to assist in clean-up efforts, I asked Jason, "what the heck happened?" All Jason could say was, "but there was no warning!"
Once I was up, I surveyed the damage...and it was extensive. While the changing table, the wall, and the carpet were expected casualties, I definitely had not anticipated that poop would be dripping down the footboard of our bed, soaking into our comforter, and staining Everett's bassinet. Yuck.
After Everett's diaper was changed, I took him back to the bed to continue nursing, and Jason got started on clean-up. I felt kinda bad that I wasn't doing more to help. But as Everett finished eating, I just couldn't help but think that Jason's version of "cleaning" wouldn't be nearly as thorough as mine...so I handed off the baby and spent the next half-hour spraying everything in the line of fire with either Oxy-Clean or Resolve. *sigh* What a way to start a Sunday. (Fortunately, Jason was downstairs making me pancakes and bacon, so that kind of made up for it.)
Anyway... I know it seems like all we talk about here is poop, but that's not entirely true. Sure, it's a much more consuming part of our lives now than it ever has been! But it's just part of the wonderfulness that is parenting, and therefore a "point of interest" along the course of our New Adventures!
There are two morals to this story:
1) Always treat a gun as if it's loaded.
2) Whether there's warning or not, chances are pretty good you'll be cleaning up poop.
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