The first few weeks of his life, my days and nights felt so similar. Feed, burp, sleep, cry, feed, burp, sleep, cry. You'd think with all the repetition it wouldn't matter when a poopie diaper hit in that cycle but it did, it still does. Daytime equals altert time. Energy to think, to make good decision, to seize the day. Nighttime equals falling asleep while feeding and mumbling incoherent phrases to your spouse. Which time do you think most poopie diapers occur? That's right, nighttime and more specifically, middle of the night time, like 3 am. And not conveniently before a feeding, but typically right after feeding, just when he's snoozing peacefully again then BAM, poop! And lots of it. Inconvenient. My favorite inconvenient moment though was just recently while on a trip to Austin for a family reunion. We are at a beautiful, luxurious, fancy, refined resort. We chose a particularly lovely day to introduce Nolan to the joys of the pool for the first time. I knew it would be redneck of us to put him in the pool 1) naked or 2) in a diaper which would immediately absorb half the liquid in the pool soo we purchased swimmers diapers, sized small or for 15lb infant. Nolan was topping ten pounds at the time so these weren't exactly hugging his small frame but they would do. So Nolan's in his swimmer diaper and a onesie as we joined Derek (husband) and Stuart (brother) for a fine lunch overlooking the golf course. The topic of choice? LSU football of course. The topic must have been stimulating in more ways than one because Nolan's bowels erupted, exploded, let loose...right into his loose swimmer diaper which quickly spilled its contents onto my resort casual capris. I freeze in that moment. What do I do with liquid poo running out my child, onto me, in this lovely restaurant, within this refined hotel? I didn't know so I looked to Derek. His expression matched mine. Horror. Survival mode kicked in. I dug out a blanket from the diaper bag. I wrapped up my child so nothing will drip on the long walk of shame back up to our hotel room. I literally RUBBED poo into my capris so I too will not drip along the journey. Derek asked if I happened to bring a sweater with me to lunch so I might tie it around my waist and cover up the evidence. No such luck honey. I excusd myself and my son and walked the long walk back to the room, avoiding all eye contact along the way. Note to self: Don't dress child in swimmers that don't fit until you are literally two inches from a body of water.
Melissa, your writing is wonderful and of course I find humor and empathy from your stories. After raising 4 babies to adulthood now I'm having frightening flashbacks of stories from the past. Back then I did cloth diapers which were nothing like the ones they make today. And if I did have Pampers, there was no elastic in them. So you had to learn the art of tucking, rolling and folding in at the legs (and the waist too, because somehow it can find it's way up and out.) Then hope that nothing leaked if you went out in public. But notoriously it is usually then that these amazing explosions happen. At first it is that horror of what to do? But by the time the last one came along you just say, ahh, it's just poo. Once while I was getting a manicure in my favorite ritzy salon in San Diego the owner came up behind me. She said, "oh you have something on your blouse"... then she sheepishly said "ohhh, it's boogers." Realizing then that earlier I had a sleeping baby on my shoulder whose little nose had smeared on me. I might have been more embarrassed at one time, but even surprised myself when I nonchalantly said, "oh it's okay... it'll wash out." And men wonder why we worship our washer and dryer! Keep up the writing, it's great and I enjoy reading your thoughts. Joy :)
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