Recycled Writing: An Oldie, but… Goodie?

We recently had the good fortune to get together with several friends and it was truly a fantastic evening.  I’m so grateful our friends managed to find time in their busy schedules and full lives to come over and let the kids run wild together.  At one point, a friend reminded me about an old piece I’d written when my daughter was 11 months old (nearly 3 years ago!) – they are now expecting their first, so apparently it wasn’t enough to scare them away from the idea of kids.  So here it is… forgive me for recycling this if you’ve read it before, but if you were waiting for one of those promised “laugh at the nut” stories, this one is for you!

The Crib Chronicles

(Tuesday, September 30, 2008 at 3:58pm)

I hope this gives you a laugh: I’m writing about my “exciting mommy adventure” of late. I’m also disclosing that this is rife with poop humor, so if that’s not your cup o’ tea, then you might want to pass…

Let me start by telling you that this was a lesson I thought I didn’t need to learn. Months ago I noticed Immy could open the tabs on her diaper and at that time I decided she could not be trusted to go pantless. Not so long ago another mom told me about her son’s adventures after removing a poopy diaper. I laughed with her and told her I *never* put Immy down without shorts/pants/something. So I should know better… I can honestly say that prior to today I had never done so and after today I shall never do it again.

It’s my daily routine to offer Immy two outfits and she picks one to wear. We’ve been doing this since she was too little to actually choose. Now she is quite good at it. Occasionally I put out a stumper and she ruminates on it for a while before choosing one. Usually she points to the favored threads and often gives me the reason why. For example, yesterday she chose between a purple onesie with a blue flower print and a red and white dress with flowers and butterflies embroidered along the hem. She went with the red dress and pointed at the flowers and butterflies indicating that is what trumped the other outfit. For days she had been pointing at another dress hanging in her closet, but I had not offered it up as one of her options. Today I gave in. It was no contest, the red, white, and blue dress easily topped the purple onesie offered again today. This dress has no diaper coverlet like some of her other dresses. And here’s where I went horribly wrong. I decided not to pull a coverlet from another outfit and put it on her. I say “decided” because that is what I did… I did not forget, I did not overlook it, I CHOSE not to put the coverlet on… and I used to think I was an otherwise semi-intelligent being.

The morning went by as any other might – breakfast, a walk around the neighborhood, and then, eventually, Immy grew tired and ready for her morning nap. We made her bottle, went upstairs, and she quickly dozed off after being put in her crib. I did some chores and sat down for a bit. Nothing out of the ordinairy. Then I heard her stirring. She was happily babbling, playing contentedly in her crib. As usual I set out to do a few last minute things before retrieving her – a peaceful, solo trip to the loo, tidying a few items, finishing off the last of a chore, and then five or ten minutes later I trotted up the stairs to get her.

I walked into her room and crossed it in a few steps and then stopped. It took a good five or six seconds for the reality to set in. I saw a diaper in the corner of her crib and Immy on the far side. In between were smears and smudges, blotches and blobs. It was on the wall, on the sheet, on every single slat of the crib, on Immys hands (how could there be so much of it?!). Quickly I ran to get the wipes and decided to try to clean her hands first. Try though I did, her hands only got slightly cleaner. And now that I was doing something she despised (cleaning her hands), Immy was no longer content, she was screaming, trying to pull away and in the process stepping and spreading the offending matter around even more. After retreating to grab more wipes, I began to rush back to the crib when I noticed a trail of quarter-sized polka dots markinig my path. A tossed turd stuck to my flip flop and was now mashed repeatedly into the carpet.

It was time for action – I grabbed the baby and carried her, at arms length, to the tub. Still crying and wriggling, she tried to climb from the tub as I attempted to calm her while washing her off. She was grabbing for me with those poopy hands – ack – grabbing my hair! I was laughing and saying, “it’s OK, it’s mommy’s fault, no biggie” (by now my shock had subsided and I was fully amused and only trying to minimize further “damage”). When she was finally clean I gathered Immy up and calmed her down. The rest of the cleaning took some time, but finally got finished nearly an hour after the initial discovery. Thank goodness she had avoided feasting on those feces (after all, everything else ends up in her mouth).

My realizations: pants are ALWAYS necessary, I am so not an intelligent being, I am raising a poo flinging chimp child

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