Stories of life in the suburbs with Husband and our daughter Squishy and son Button!

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Sometimes You're Covered in Poop

It was a typical Sunday morning...

Squishy alerted me to her immediate needs around 8:15 AM. I changed her and gave her a bottle and went back to sleep. Please note that Squishy knows when it's the weekend, and takes this chance to sleep in, have extra time to rest before she has to go back to the Baby Office. 

So I woke up on my own around 11 AM and Squishy was still sleeping. A rarity. Husband and I were enjoying each other's company when Squishy decided it was time the whole family was awake. 

I poked my head in  her room to say "Good Morning, Baby" and my nostrils were overwhelmed with the smell of poop.

"I smell a Stinker Butt!" I said with a grin. Squishy did not return my smile. 

It. Was. Everywhere. 

My tiny human had blown a gasket. She was covered in poop from the waist down. Since she's a baby, you should already assume there is shit all over her hands. Therefore, there is poop on her face, in her hair, and everywhere else baby's hands go. 

My immediate thought was keep the poop away from her mouth, ears, and eyes. I started reacting to the poop with shrieks of "Oh my God, it's all over you, Baby!" And things like that. I forgot that babies react to your reactions when they don't know what to do. So, she thought I was yelling at her. Squishy became a blumbering mess of cries thinking that I was mad at her for no reason. My fault. I was only reacting to the literal shit storm that was my 1 year old. 

I took off her shirt and tried to come up with a maneuver or something that could get Squishy to the bathtub without getting poop everywhere. Squishy was so upset, however, that she turned into a clingy baby monkey. She was sad, and needed Mommy cuddles. 

So I got poopy too. 

I just wrapped my arms around her and carried her bare ass naked to the bathroom for a bath. I got in the tub with her, and started scrubbing. 

I don't know exactly when this moment happened, but there was a moment...

If you think about it, how many people would you hug if they were covered in poop. Just hug them, without thinking about it. It's what they need at that moment and you dive in and deliver. What's more, would you then climb into a bathtub with them and wash them? Would you rinse and repeat until all the shit had gone? That is a special kind of love. 

Reminds me of that Bruno Mars song "Grenade". He's professing such a love that he would catch a grenade, be hit by a train, take a bullet, and get stabbed for the one he loves. 

Really Bruno? It's really nice that you care for someone that much that you would potentially take a painful, if not deadly injury for the one you love. But, Mr. Mars, I have to ask you....

Would you stew in poop? I would. 

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