Ok, not even a WHOLE day, but man, I am ready for bed already.
It has been a tough week or so at the ol’ homestead. Cliff has an infected wisdom tooth that is causing him some pain and therefore making him cranky like a wounded bear. Drew as developed a horrific, bleeding diaper rash that makes him walk like John Wayne and resist diaper changes. Have you ever seen someone try and catch a greased pig at the rodeo? It’s a lot like that. He also developed a nighttime cough that has been keeping him (and thus me!) awake for the past several nights. As for me, I am roughly 67 months pregnant, giant and unwieldy, have heartburn that could strip the chrome off a bumper, have not slept in weeks, and umm……….am mildly hormonal. And when I say “mild” I mean “cries or rages every 8.9 seconds, whether needed or not”.
So……last night started out well. Got Drew into a baking soda bath for his poor bum, then let him have some naked TV time in an attempt to help it dry out a bit. Bedtime was a breeze – a huge thunderstorm rolled in right when we layed down, so we listened to the rain together and I got to hear his awesome commentary about rain and lightning. He has always had an affinity for thunderstorms – I wonder if it is just an inheritance from his weather obsessed father or if it has anything to do with the fact that he was born in the middle of a violent storm. His cough was a little less persistent, and I had great hopes that he’d sleep through the night. And he did!
Alas………….I was up most of the night struggling with pregnancy induced stomach tempests. How totally unfair is THAT!? 2:15 am found me crying, begging, and asking the Universe “WHY??!? The Kid is SLEEPING!!!!! Why won’t you let me sleep, too!???!” There was no answer, but I swear I heard an evil, otherworldly chuckle or two.
This morning, I gathered Drew’s clothes and a clean diaper and prepared for Diaper Dash IIV. I gathered my baby washclothes (softer than disposable wipes), my diaper area cleansing spray (theoretically less stingy than the wipes on a sore bum, and for $15 it has freaking better be downright soothing!), my diaper disposal bag (capable of containing a Level 4 nuclear rated pair of poopy pants), and a $13 tube of organic, environmentally friendly, probably edible diaper rash cream for The Slather manuever necesary to coat the rash. As I approached him (from the rear, you don’t want to spook them!), I noticed with increasing horror that there appeared to be a………river? stream? ooze? of poop coming out of the back of his pants and headed down his leg for the floor.
RED ALERT! RED ALERT! POOPAGE UNCONTAINED!!!
In a move considered by many to be impossible for a 67 month pregnant lady (in a skirt!) to pull off, I grabbed a wipe and launched myself at his ass, simultaneously wiping the chunk of poop about to head for the floor. Frankly, I was impressed with myself, both for getting there in time and for the sheer physicality of the move. I felt like Kerrie Strug pulling off that vault on one leg, albeit larger and more out of breath. Drew, on the other hand, was alarmed. Hard to blame him, I think I’d probably be scared by both the visual of my huge mother launching herself at me and her exuberant “Boo-YA!” of victory as she sat up holding a wipe full of poop if I were a toddler, too. It was also the first time he realized there was something leaking from his pants, so he reached back and grabbed………two handfuls of poop. He then brought his hands to his face and realized there was POOP on them. Utter and total panic set in. He began to cry and shake his hands about, flinging poop all over the place. My only alternative, as both a mother concerned about the bacterial properties of fecal matter AND the owner of a relatively new set of living room furniture concerned about upholstery, was to tackle him and contain the biohazard.
Once he was down, the diaper change that took place can only be described as “barbaric”. He wailed, he cried, he thrashed, his father held him down and I pried his buttcheeks apart to make sure I was getting all the irritating poop out, then slathered about $5 of cream on his bum. New diaper thus installed, we held each other and cried. Then a hand wash, a banana, and out the door to school. God bless the automatic garage door opener (“Hey, Drew! Do you want to press the button to open the big door!?!?!”) and the theme song from Higglytown Heroes. Drop off was easy, breezy, beautiful………not quite Cover Girl, as Mama looks like hell, but at least there was no Drop Off Drama.
……………….and that brings us to about 8:15. What else does the day have in store? Hopefully (mostly pregnancy safe) pharmeceuticals. Please?!??!
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