The Little Victories PDF Print E-mail
Written by Eric   
Sunday, 04 January 2009 16:03

It's interesting the way that being sleep deprived and constantly taking care of twins makes even the smallest victories seem monumental. A victory is a victory, you take what you can get, even if it is a somewhat bitter-sweet victory... or in this case, butter-scotch. Well, actually it was more like butter-scotch pudding, but only in color and consistency, not in smell, and I assume not in taste.

It all started a few nights ago when Erin stopped sleeping very well. This insomnia happened to coincide with the ceasing of diaper filling. We assumed that there must be some internal blockage in her plumbing that was starting to back up. She was uncomfortable. (At least that's what we interpreted her Wahs to mean. She may have just been talking about the weather, but once again there is that whole language barrier that we're dealing with.) We tried to give her some anti-gas pink stuff, which she really enjoys, but it didn't help much. When we could get her to calm down a little the gurgling and percolating in her bowels sounded like a peaceful babbling brook. But it was not a peaceful place. It was in fact a war zone.

Yesterday the war ended. There were casualties. Among them a cute outfit, a onesie, a changing table cover, a diaper, and a little bit of my dignity. Shannah was feeding Alex at the time and she very proudly announced to me that Erin had just filled a diaper and that since she was busy it was my task to get her cleaned up. I decided to start by assessing the damage. I took her out of the swing and put her on the changing table section of the Pack'n'Play that now lives in our living room. This was not going to be a simple fix that could be triaged down there. No, this was going to require all the might of the nursery, and perhaps the spare bathroom as well.

So we went up to the nursery. I took off the different pieces of clothing starting with the jumper she was wearing. Yep, it was done for the day. Then came the onesie. Also finished. There was some hesitation at this point while I pondered the practicality of just cutting her out of the outfit rather than trying to pull it over her head. Reason did prevail and I went ahead and took it off the normal way knowing at this point that we had a bath in our near future. I started throwing baby wipes at the problem before I even loosened the diaper. First I needed to clean the backs of her knees and every other boundary of the diaper. Then I finally broke the seal and dove head long into the regions of despair. (Interesting side note: If you rearrange the letters of “despair” you can spell “diapers.”) (A note of clarification: When I say I “dove head long” I am speaking figuratively, while the contents of the diaper were quite deep and flowing, it would not have been safe to dive. That's how people break their necks.) So I got the diaper off and started cleaning. Once I felt that the walls and carpet were no longer in danger of being irreparably stained, I prepared the bath, which was, happily, quite uneventful.

In the end Erin got a bath, and a new outfit to wear for the evening and I got a good story. And as a bonus, she slept really well last night.

(Note of apology to Erin: If someday you are reading this story and find it incredibly embarrassing, I apologize. It was insensitive of me to use your misfortune as a topic for a humorous blog entry; however, I can't guarantee that I won't tell the story to the first boyfriend you bring home, especially if I don't like him.)

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Mark Hogue   | |2009-01-30 07:29:16
I'm glad you added the end note. I was worried about how Erin's self esteem
would be effected when she reads Daddy's blog some day.
Heidi Carrion  - I can definitely appreciate...   | |2009-06-10 16:16:49
Six months ago, I never would have imagined that there would be so much to say
about baby poop, but now, I could write volumes also. I have yet to find a
diaper that can compete with the trajectory/force/momentum of Lucy's poops. And
I swear, every morning, the sweetness of her smile is inversely proportional to
the mess I'll find under her swaddle.
Happy 1/2 birthday to Erin and Alex, by
the way!!
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