So this morning, I was running early. For those of you who know me in real life, you’ll know that this never happens. Especially in the morning. I’m at least 3 minutes late for everything. I’m pretty sure I’ll be late for my own funeral.
It was 7:10 am. All I had left to do was pump, dress Mason, and leave. Normally, it’s 7:30 or later when I’m at this point. I was pretty excited about the prospect of either enjoying a large bowl of Chocolate Cheerios before I left, or getting to work half an hour early and then leaving half an hour early. I should have known better.
I decided I would dress Mason before pumping, that way, he’d have more time to digest before I got him into his car seat, a process that often seems to make him lose some of his breakfast. I picked him up from his little chair and there was something obviously very wrong. Very very wrong.
Yep, Little Man was COVERED in poop from his neck to the bottom of his diaper. Oh my god, this was a diaper blowout of epic proportions. No big deal, I’m running early, we can deal with this.
Well, I manage to get his onsie off without covering him further in poop and I’m doing the “Can we clean this up with baby wipes or do we need the help of the bathtub?” Not feeling like having to scrub poop out of the bathtub, I figured I’d give babywipes a try. While I was washing his back, his wee rag shot off…
Yep, that’s right, baby firehose on the loose. So now, I’m covered in pee, the changing mat is covered in pee, and his chest is covered in pee.
At that point in time, I’m thinking “Well, I really don’t think baby wipes are going to do the job anymore….”
He turned and looked at me and threw up all of his breakfast. Onto my sock and leg.
So now my hands are covered in poop, my shirt is covered in pee, and my leg and sock is covered in barf. We match pretty well because his back is covered in poop, his front in pee, and his face and neck in barf.
Into the bathtub we went.
He enjoyed his bath, got all cleaned up, he cooed happily in his towel, and I changed my clothes. Lotioned him up, starting getting him dressed, and by the time I’d gotten one arm into the outfit I’d been saving for a few weeks until it got warm again (it’s been in the low 60s here lately…), it became obvious that this outfit was NOT going to fit. And he let me know this by protesting loudly.
Got him out of the shirt, and started putting another one on him. Same deal, only he was wailing at the top of his lungs now.
Third outfit? Barely fit, but now I was running late. Making sure it wasn’t pinching tight, I loaded him in his carseat and he screamed all the way to daycare. Where I pulled in right when I should have been getting to work. Crap.
I told the girls the 10 second version of my morning and let them know that they were welcome to take him home if I didn’t show back up for him (kidding of course)
Thankfully, the rest of my morning has went much much better.
Babies, they’re a handful!!