In the weeks following Bug’s arrival home from the hospital,
he did a lot of what babies regularly do—eat, sleep, poop and pee. And I will
admit, in that first week, he managed to pee on his own face, in my face and
actually poop down the leg of his 10 year old brother.
It went a little like this:
I announced Bug needed a diaper change. Big Brother offered
to try his hand at his FIRST poop diaper. He takes Bug into the nursery. A few
moments of silence, followed by “Uh, Melissa, everything is ok, but I think I need
your help.” I causally meander in, not wanting to embarrass Big Brother if he
was having troubles figuring out, say, how to fasten the diaper correctly. This
is what I walk in on: Bug’s feet up in the air, butt aimed straight at Big
Brother, who had hot baby mustard poop running down his bare leg. Big Brother was a
total trooper, though. He handled it probably better than I would have,
honestly. He laughed it off, and even went on to help clean up the mess.
Flash forward. In the 9 months since then, I have become a
diaper changing professional. I have the system down and am happy to report I have
had little to no baby urine on my person since his first weeks.
Until yesterday. I got cocky. I thought that I could risk it
and actually leave his boy parts uncovered while reaching for the diaper cream.
As I turned back around, my face was met with a steady stream of baby pee, hitting me directly in my
eyeballs at a pretty alarming strength. And you know what the worst part about
the whole thing was? He laughed. Once he was done, he looked straight up at me
and laughed. Not a “oh crap, mommy is mad” nervous kind of laugh. But a look-straight-into-my-face,
“your problem, lady” kind of laugh.
That’s the shit you put up with when you are a mother—being
tagged in the eye by fresh baby urine, then getting laughed at.
Love,
mama & b
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