Literally. We dealt with a lot of crap this weekend.
Pumpkin has been on a fairly decent BM schedule. One or two good ones a day and now, luckily for us, most of them while she is at school (YAY). This weekend, however, she was moving like crazy...and as you'll see, she wasn't the only one!
Friday night we run into a "we ran out of diapers at the restaurant" emergency. Luckily, we were done eating and close enough to home we could basically hold our breaths till we got here (and, boy, did we need to). Unfortunately, we weren't close enough to home to prevent the entire car seat from being saturated with the contents of her diaper. We get home: I grab baby and make bathwater, Aaron rips the carseat apart and starts washing. Once she's clean, it's late, so I decide to dry the carseat in the morning, which I did. Too bad it wasn't as easy to put together as it was to take apart, particularly early in the morning. We do eventually get it - 15 minutes late for Aly's first photo shoot, but we make it.
The photo shoot is a blast - she's adorable and happy. We get some great shots. We sit down with the photographer in very close quarters to start selecting pictures and packages. Our charming little supermodel then lets out the loudest, wettest, most diaper-filling noise you've ever heard out of such a tiny body. Aaron, red-faced, rushes her into the women's bathroom (with permission - it's where the changing station was) and changes her. They come back and no sooner had he hit the chair then Round 2 begins. Back to the women's restroom for my two ABs.
Fast forward to later that night. Saturday night may be alright for fightin', but it wasn't alright for sleeping. Pumpkin woke up at midnight on the dot (technically Sunday morning I guess) and it was a blur of chaos and crying after that. I'd get her down for a bit, only to have her wake up again screaming, forcing Aaron up, and on and on it went. Poor Aaron got the bleary-eyed 4 AM in the dark poop change, after which he broke the solemn "no baby in the bed" rule and took her to the guest room to try to trick her into sleeping on his chest (he says he took her in the guest room so as not to wake me, I think it was moreso that I wouldn't see him breaking the sacred commandment of "thou shalt force the baby to sleep in her own room"). Either way, we were both so tired at that point we were taking the elusive sleep in whatever way we could.
Once she finally got back to sleep, probably somewhere close to 6 AM, we let ourselves "sleep in." We forgot to tell the dogs. At 7 AM I hear the panicked cries from the laundry room. Since Aaron took the last Pumpkin shift, I less-than-graciously accepted the duty of letting the dogs out. Typically this can be done with eyes closed: open kennel, open door, shut door, open door, back to bed. Even in my delirium, I was certain I could handle this. Unfortunately, as soon as I hit the living room I smelled what awaited me. And let's just say, without much detail, I ended up scrubbing floors AND walls, washing blankets, and hosing down the kennel. I also got to scrub my own feet after an unfortunate incident involving something that was wrapped up in the blanket when I took it out of the kennel.
In my bleary-eyed cleaning rage, I forgot to "open door" that second time to let them back IN the house. Sure enough, the skinnier of the two dogs got impatient and went under the fence and down the street. Still in my pajamas, hair sticking straight up, I go calling after him in my scratchy first morning voice. Of course, as soon as I open the door the neighbor wants to start chatting about how he saw me on the news. I'm not even sure I responded. 30 minutes later, barefoot, smelling like Clorox and toting a Chihuahua, I am back home. No use trying to go back to sleep now, so I make coffee.
Aaron and Pumpkin are awake by this time. Her little morning smile (after her screaming-her-head-off-starvation-fit) melts my heart and I forget my exhaustion and my short-lived hatred of all God's four-legged creatures. I have some coffee, Aly has some formula, Aaron makes pancakes. Life is good. We are cooing and smiling and I just can't resist picking her up, risking spoiling her, but who really cares. I hug her too me and feel a little wet on my arm and chest. I pull her back and look, nothing. Guess it's some formula that dribbled out. Hug her some more, more wet. Finally a little stink works in too, and I notice the yellowish-brown spot slowly seeping through her pajamas.
Well...poo.
Pumpkin has been on a fairly decent BM schedule. One or two good ones a day and now, luckily for us, most of them while she is at school (YAY). This weekend, however, she was moving like crazy...and as you'll see, she wasn't the only one!
Friday night we run into a "we ran out of diapers at the restaurant" emergency. Luckily, we were done eating and close enough to home we could basically hold our breaths till we got here (and, boy, did we need to). Unfortunately, we weren't close enough to home to prevent the entire car seat from being saturated with the contents of her diaper. We get home: I grab baby and make bathwater, Aaron rips the carseat apart and starts washing. Once she's clean, it's late, so I decide to dry the carseat in the morning, which I did. Too bad it wasn't as easy to put together as it was to take apart, particularly early in the morning. We do eventually get it - 15 minutes late for Aly's first photo shoot, but we make it.
The photo shoot is a blast - she's adorable and happy. We get some great shots. We sit down with the photographer in very close quarters to start selecting pictures and packages. Our charming little supermodel then lets out the loudest, wettest, most diaper-filling noise you've ever heard out of such a tiny body. Aaron, red-faced, rushes her into the women's bathroom (with permission - it's where the changing station was) and changes her. They come back and no sooner had he hit the chair then Round 2 begins. Back to the women's restroom for my two ABs.
Fast forward to later that night. Saturday night may be alright for fightin', but it wasn't alright for sleeping. Pumpkin woke up at midnight on the dot (technically Sunday morning I guess) and it was a blur of chaos and crying after that. I'd get her down for a bit, only to have her wake up again screaming, forcing Aaron up, and on and on it went. Poor Aaron got the bleary-eyed 4 AM in the dark poop change, after which he broke the solemn "no baby in the bed" rule and took her to the guest room to try to trick her into sleeping on his chest (he says he took her in the guest room so as not to wake me, I think it was moreso that I wouldn't see him breaking the sacred commandment of "thou shalt force the baby to sleep in her own room"). Either way, we were both so tired at that point we were taking the elusive sleep in whatever way we could.
Once she finally got back to sleep, probably somewhere close to 6 AM, we let ourselves "sleep in." We forgot to tell the dogs. At 7 AM I hear the panicked cries from the laundry room. Since Aaron took the last Pumpkin shift, I less-than-graciously accepted the duty of letting the dogs out. Typically this can be done with eyes closed: open kennel, open door, shut door, open door, back to bed. Even in my delirium, I was certain I could handle this. Unfortunately, as soon as I hit the living room I smelled what awaited me. And let's just say, without much detail, I ended up scrubbing floors AND walls, washing blankets, and hosing down the kennel. I also got to scrub my own feet after an unfortunate incident involving something that was wrapped up in the blanket when I took it out of the kennel.
In my bleary-eyed cleaning rage, I forgot to "open door" that second time to let them back IN the house. Sure enough, the skinnier of the two dogs got impatient and went under the fence and down the street. Still in my pajamas, hair sticking straight up, I go calling after him in my scratchy first morning voice. Of course, as soon as I open the door the neighbor wants to start chatting about how he saw me on the news. I'm not even sure I responded. 30 minutes later, barefoot, smelling like Clorox and toting a Chihuahua, I am back home. No use trying to go back to sleep now, so I make coffee.
Aaron and Pumpkin are awake by this time. Her little morning smile (after her screaming-her-head-off-starvation-fit) melts my heart and I forget my exhaustion and my short-lived hatred of all God's four-legged creatures. I have some coffee, Aly has some formula, Aaron makes pancakes. Life is good. We are cooing and smiling and I just can't resist picking her up, risking spoiling her, but who really cares. I hug her too me and feel a little wet on my arm and chest. I pull her back and look, nothing. Guess it's some formula that dribbled out. Hug her some more, more wet. Finally a little stink works in too, and I notice the yellowish-brown spot slowly seeping through her pajamas.
Well...poo.
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