It was a long week. The little guy was acting his old lovable and laughing self. Exhausted I lay sleeping, stealing a nap after dinner. The little guy was climbing on me as if he were trying to pin me in a wrestling match. My wife rescued me and moved him next to her. I had changed his diaper several times before and told my wife that they were wet diapers but that was all. I then said, “He is due to unload”… (now this was said with excitement because the little guy was no longer sick and I looked forward to solids over diarrhea.) I decided it was safe to not double diaper him. A decision I would not only regret… but pay for as I began my nap.
I awoke to my wife’s panicky voice. At first she was softly saying out loud, “What’s that in his mouth?”
Her words sped up and the volume increased, “Is that blood?!” “What iS THAT?!” “Is that BLOOD!” “What’s that on his pacifier!!!” … “is it BLOOD?” … … … “Matt, I need your help… he has blood on his mouth and pacifier.” And then I heard the words I never imagined combined…
“NO… IT’s POOP!” “He has POOP in his mouth!” “It’s POOP!”
I looked over to see her holding his pacifier and what looked like the ginger salad dressing from Hibachi’s Japanese restaurant covering the nub. “MATT, you gotta take care of this! … I’m sorry… I just can’t… (gagging a couple times, and then one gag followed by a dry throw up – gurgle and all.)
We had one surviving towel that had not been removed from the days before that was still on the bed. I picked him up and placed him on it. I took off his pants to see his onesy buttons covered in the same ginger salad dressing. I tried to unbutton without getting my fingers dirty…that did not happen. As I pulled the onsey over his head I looked and saw that the towel that had survived – it could no longer make that claim.
The puddle of mud like goo being swooshed around under his diaper was notable. (and this may not make sense to some but I actually was happy, for it was not diarrhea!! And, it had not blown out up his back. ) As my wife grabbed him to help after I removed the loaded diaper… she stood him up and placed his feet on the bed. She said, “Well, you said he was due to unload!” And unload he did – like a batch of icing squeezed out too quickly on top of a cake. Only it was not icing… it was poop. There he stood… propped up by mommy with that toothless smile on his face. This moment quickly ended for me as I looked down and shouted, “you stood him in the poop!” … (and with a chuckle mixed with disgust) “HE HAS POOP ON HIS FOOT!”
We decided it was a lost cause to wipe up the mess and just put him in the bath and threw everything involved into the washing machine. Or more true, I put the stuff in the washer cause miss gag-a lot almost threw up on him. I came back in to see a healthy baby getting a bath. He smiled at me with that look like I am the greatest thing on the planet…
My heart smiled bigger than my face – as all I could think of was… I get to hang out with that guy!
