...the next minute, one of my worst baby nightmares is coming true... a s@!$ storm of epic proportions, in L's happy little crib, all over him, his crib sheet, the bumper & every. single. sweet. little. stuffed animal he was playing with. i'm traumatized. shell shocked. scarred.this is kinda how my days go now, it's like they're bipolar—with HIGH highs and LOW lows.
la la la singing & dancing at kindermusik to nightmarish bowel movements.
i handled it like so,
fully clothed baby transported to shower and stripped down.
naked baby transported to full size tub and wiped down.
poop-free baby transported to happy fun baby tub with suds and toys in effort to pretend none of this happened.
he? smiling entire time.
me? freaking the EFF out.
next up, clean baby wrapped in towel and transported to changing table for diaper and t-shirt, then swiftly deposited in pack-n-play.
while i...
scrubbed down shower.
soaked soiled onesie i love & refuse to part with.
retrieved all inanimate victims of explosive diaper massacre from crib and shoved in washing machine. all at once. (please oh please don't let that bite me in the ass.)
fetched now crying baby.
fed crying baby to sleep.
am still holding now sleeping baby and typing this entire post with my left hand.
mommyhood isn't for the weak.
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