Last night was a challenge for sure. Emily slept for 4 hours at a time, but the 2 a.m. feeding was a mess. She was a little fussy while eating, but nothing too out of control. It wasn't until the diaper change began that things weent downhill.
First I took off her diaper and she squirted poop all over the changing table cover. I cleaned that up and put a new diaper under her and she squirted poop all over that. New diaper, which she peed all over before I could even get it all the way on her. New diaper and poop came squirting out again, this time all over my hand. Now, I say squirt, but it was really kind of a cross between bubbling out and spraying, combined with the occasional squirt. I'm not even sure how there was any poop left at this point. After cleaning up the mess AGAIN I finally got a diaper on her and this time it got to stay on. I baby wiped my hand, then used some purelle to sanitize it and reached down to pick Emily up.
At this point she spit up. Are you kidding me? I just changed that changing table cover. It is almost 3 a.m. I am half asleep and already totally grossed out. I'm irritated and I feel bad for her all at the same time. "Oh honey!" I say and pull her into an upright position. I am looking for a burp cloth, but the closest one is across the room in the rocking chair. Luckily I keep more in the drawer of the changing table. I reached down when all of the sudden she goes projectile. Spit up is pouring out of her mouth exorcist style. I start to freak out, but I've seen this before. And all I can really think is "At least it's not pea soup."
Amazingly, even with spit up all down her front, all over her arms and face, all over my arms, and all over the table, Emily didn't shed a tear. Instead she gave a little giggle. Like the whole thing was funny. Haha, Mom. I pooped on you. Haha, Mom. I just puked all over you. This girl is definitely my child. I know this is payback for everything I did to my parents as a kid.
I pulled out an emergency onsie - the plain white ones that I keep in the changing table for just such an occasion - and wiped her down with a wet wash rag. It wasn't until she had to get dressed again that she actually got upset. And then it was another 30 minutes or so before she calmed down enough to go to sleep. When she finally did, I was ecstatic. I put her into the bassinet and crawedl into my own bed, which has never felt so good.
And you think that is the end of the story, but your wrong. It seems like that would be the end of it, but wait, there's more.
I woke up with her several more times before it is light enough and I am coherent enough to notice, but she has left me a present that can only be discovered in daylight. The wall behind the changing table is streaked with runny poo. It has dripped down the wall behind the table.
Now wait just a minute, I think. This is totally unfair. The next words out of my mouth are "Mike, can you come help me?" After all, he got to sleep through the rest of it. And lucky for me, Emily's Daddy is a team player. He Clorox wiped that wall like a pro.
With that I think to myself, "Not a bad way to start the day." And that, my friends, is how I know I am really a mom.
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