Compare to Ali, Nate has way less explosive diapers. Maybe he doesn't eat as much? I don't know, but boy, did we just hit a jackpot last week. I felt the need to blog this so that my little guy would know how much "fun" mommy had when he was a baby. (Yes, mommy deals with sh!t all the time!)
It is not a pleasant experience when there is a leaky, explosive diaper. It is much worse when you have a toddler demanding for your attention when you are dealing with the crap. After we finished our snack, I ushered my kiddies to the living room to play. I put the boy down and wanted to go and wash my hands. Then I realized I spilled something on my shirt. My first reaction was, "Hmm, what did I spill? Did I spill the jarred food? But I just gave him yogurt. Was it because of the dishes? But it doesn't make sense." It took me a while to realize that his diaper might be leaking. Oh yes, yes, it leaked. As Nate wasn't wearing any pants, there is *ahem* evidence EVERYWHERE. (Now, why am I always alone in situations like this?)
Assessing the situation, I thought both baby and I need to change immediately. Reassessing the situation, need to bring the little guy to the change table in his room, otherwise, he is going roll and it would be impossible to clean afterwards. And off we went, badgering my girl NOT TO WALK close to those tiles. While I was concentrating on the task at hand (man, there was so much poop!!), I heard my girl jumped off the couch. Immediately, I told the girl to STAY AWAY from the poop, afraid that she would spread it everywhere. Ali replied, "but I NEED to get my cards, I NEED them." Her cards were really close to the poop tiles. My heart just sank.
After changing baby, I left him in the playpen, and scout to see what the damage was like. Thank goodness, Ali was able to stay clean. And then I realized how much poop there was on the tiles. Really? And the floor too? Okay. While I was cleaning the tiles and cursing this whole event, I started to wonder when did he actually poop?? He wasn't doing it when I was carrying him. That just meant...he must have done it when he was eating. Crap. My suspicions were further confirmed by the big honking poop on his high chair. And of course, the poop sat in the gap between the seat cover (that can be easily washed in the washer) and the chair. Right. It's just too perfect of a scenario.
Off I went to the laundry room with all the poopy clothes and seat covers. Little girl, being ignored for the whole time, really wanted to go downstairs with me, but I couldn't let her. I mean, my hands were covered with poop. And the tears started to flow and then came the screaming. My girl was breaking down. Meanwhile, my little boy was super upset (being trapped in the playpen) started to blow raspberries. It was like listening to a symphony of cries.