Little Babies Can Do Big Things

We’ve all been there.

The baby poops, and you assume it’s going to be a standard, run-of-the-mill change.

This happened to me last night. My 9-month-old had the telltale smell, so I brought her to the couch for a new diaper. Normally I would use the changing table, but the rest of the clan was napping in the back, so I gathered my supplies and commenced. Then it happened.

You know, when you remove the innocent-looking stretchy pants and realize they are much, much heavier than they should be.

When you see poop, plastered all the way down one flailing limb.

When you stand back and marvel at how such a TINY BABY could produce THAT MUCH POOP.

And you realize: THIS WILL BE NO ORDINARY DIAPER CHANGE.

So there we were: my precious baby dangling by one soiled leg, me fumbling for a wipe. And of course, all the wipes were stuck in a big ball and would not fit through the hole. So I’m shaking the clump in its crackly casing, and my daughter hears it, and wants to reach for some of the action, but instead covers her hand in poop. Now, we all know the inevitable destination of all babies’ hands: THE MOUTH. Yes, so there I am, helpless, wipeless, and my little princess about to ingest E coli. In my panic I whip those puppies out a la Indiana Jones. Of course, now I can’t get them apart. Have you ever tried to get a string of wipes apart with one hand? Yeah. So I just use the whole line of them on my daughter. So what if I got poop on the couch? The cushions are brown. By now, of course, she is screaming, turning our little 1200-square-foot house into a cavernous noise tunnel and, I’m sure, waking the natives. When I realize that I need a few hundred more wipes to cover the rest of the damage, I notice that the other pouch is ALL THE WAY OVER THERE. Yes, I did the cardinal sin: I left my baby alone ON THE COUCH for 10 seconds. Sorry, What to Expect the First Year. I did not leave one hand on the baby during the entire change. Thank God she survived.

Finally, I get her little bottom back to its pink perfect self. I consider tossing the pants in the garbage. Sooooo much easier, right? But no, that would be a waste. So, two pairs of gloves, one change of trash, a gallon of dish soap, a slanted utility sink full of vinegar, a whole mess of sanitizing wipes, one load of laundry, and fifteen minutes later, I have victory.

This time.