Have you been here? Sitting in your car in the driveway 1) reading 2) eating 3) sleeping or 4) writing because your baby is asleep in the back and you stupidly made the move from removable carseat to non-removable carseat because you were thrilled your baby was ready for it? You didn't stop to think if you were ready for it, did you?
Not to worry - we've all made this mistake and now here we are, imprisoned in our cars in our own driveways, waiting for the baby to wake up and feeling idiotic. Use the time to do something productive - like take a nap. I'm serious.
When this happened to me yesterday, I reflected on the morning's events, the Morning of the Infinite Poo...
It all started when I assumed I could take 23 seconds to review the life insurance policy I'd just opened which had arrived three weeks ago. Standing in the middle of the kitchen with my 9 month old happily entertaining a plastic potato masher at my feet, I made the mistake of focusing on what I was reading. When I realized that nearly half a minute had elapsed without my looking at the baby I glanced down to see...a slump of brown matter near the fridge and several, smaller islands of brown surrounding it. Fearing at first it was a dead rodent family of some kind, I put down the policy and bent over the baby. He was staring wondrously at a smear of the substance on his finger and another the size of a Nike swoosh on his left thigh. I breathed a gasp - Poo! But how? When?! He was fully clothed and diapered. Then I remembered - he's a baby, he can do anything.
It was a regulation "backupper" - that is, an overflowing diaper that releases excess contents "up the back" although in this case it was more like a "neck upper." I'd never seen anything so monstrous come out of him (since the first, tar-like poo in the hospital but let's not). It reminded me of Poltergeist.
In these situations a mother makes choices. Clean the baby or kitchen floor first? If I took seven seconds to wipe the floor, said baby would waste none of them in further exploring the delights of his own hideous creation, spreading it on his hands, face and eventually, mouth. Am I right, o tired moms of the world? I scooped him up and at a complete loss, deposited him fully clothed into the tub.
Things were progressing in a generally forward direction in the tub when the spouse re-entered the kitchen. "What happened here?" came the bewildered cry. Then, "Is everybody allright up there??" God bless him, he actually sounded genuinely worried.
"A slight accident," I reported, wondering anew whether to clean the newly poo-spackled bathtub or dry the baby, who was now headed for the door / hallway / emergency room.
Guess which I did?
Please share your favorite back-upper story. I know there are worse ones out there.
