Gametes In Love

This is one of those stories that child caregivers will (sadly) relate to and make non-parents cringe. It’s a story of poop, and tossed cookies (or in our case tossed pear/pineapple pure). It ain’t for the faint of heart, but it can very well be one of those train-wrecks you just can’t look away from. On the other hand, if you want to continue reading of G’s adventures and want the good, smiley parts, skip over today, K?

G for the second night in a row delivered his load just in time for the last diaper change of the day. Personally, I prefer it when he goes during the day, while at daycare, but alas, not so lucky lately. He’s also been fighting diaper changes and squiggles, kicks and twists during them as if he’s been subjected to some torturous procedure. Between the two, we’ve been lucky that we haven’t ended up with a steamy pile of poo on our carpet… until last night.
In his bronco imitation phase, G manages to kick his soiled diaper off the changing table. Luckily S caught it (this is why poopie diapers are now a 2-man job) before it ended up on the floor. Sadly, we didn’t get as lucky on restraining the wipes. One of those wipes must have dropped a juicy little nugget, that S unknowingly stepped in. While I was proceeding with the rest of our bed-time routine, S continued walking around the room putting stuff away, gathering diapers for the next day, so on and so forth. Yeah, you see where this is going? He left a lovely little trail of where he’d been. It wasn’t until the end that he looked down, then at me, and we figured out what had happened. Off he goes to get the cleaning supplies.
G is now no longer interested in his milk, and in fact wants to get down on the floor and play – on the poopie, being cleaned up with Resolve, floor, mind you. The lights are still on, so there’s no hint for him to think that bed-time is coming up. Yet he’s tired and already cranky. This makes for one fussy baby, one irritated dad, and one helpless mom.
Result? A (literally) shitty bed-time.
S had to ultimately take over when he was done cleaning, because G was pissed off at me for not letting him go down on the floor (and we all know how the kid can hold a grudge).

At least he slept well.

Cue up this morning.
Following breakfast, as I’m putting my shoes on, already dressed and G straddled on my hip, guess what happened? That’s right – G decided he didn’t want to hold on to his breakfast. Luckily S heard him coughing up and literally stuck his hands out cupped in front of G’s mouth as it all came out. It got all over G’s shirt, and my sweater, so back upstairs we go to change. Meanwhile, S is trying not to loose his cookies while he washes up his hands. I could hear him dry-heaving in the downstairs bathroom.
Yeah, I guess we know who the lucky parent will be cleaning up after G’s first stomach flu, huh?

So welcome to parenting my friends. This is your preview. You know you’ve reached a true stage of parenting when you discuss these sorts of topics. For the record? It’s still gross!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, November 11th, 2009 at 2:05 pm and is filed under Raising Toddler. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.